Derivations
by hide-N-seeker
Summary: The average secret hides a trivial, average matter from the knowledge of others. Harry has always been surrounded by secrets...but, Harry has never been average. (Eventual HPDM slash)Draco's joins the story!
1. Family Secrets

_NOTE: _I would absolutely _adore _having a beta for this story...(hint hint...if anyone is interested) _Please? _

by hide-N-seeker

I also write under the name Sylvannastar but I chose to keep this excursion into the HP verse completely separate from my other writing.

I own nothing and give any and all credit to the original creator and brilliant talent of J K Rowlings. All I am doing is playing with her toys!

A quick note, any and all stories I work on are LONG. This in not an exaggeration. Nor is it voluntary. I am absolutely unable to write anything remotely short. I have a habit of twisting a simple plot into an epic novel. Just thought that I should warn the readers...And yes, this is my first attempt of several things. My first HP story, my first fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants plot, my first non-crossover fic and, my first attempt at Slash. _winces_ and depending on how that turns out, perhaps my last. You see, I have a thing about not testing the waters. I just jump right in there and sink or swim...so..._holds nose_ time to dive..._belly-flops into shallow water_

* * *

_Derivations: The form or source from which something is derived: Origin_

_The Historical Origin or development of_

_A copy or adaptation from an original _

_To receive or obtain from a source_

_To arrive at by reasoning; deduce or infer_

_To trace the origin or development of_

_To issue from a source; originate_

Part One- Family Secrets

Harry James Potter was many things. If you asked Harry himself, he would tell you he was rather short. He would claim that he looked like his father, but he had his mother's eyes. He would say that he was fairly shy. He might mention that he was protective of those he loved. But never would you hear Harry say that he was a wizard. At least not while he was stuck under the same roof with his last remaining blood relatives for the summer break.

It was indeed that time of year where he was once again forced to be away from Hogwarts, the number one wizarding school, and the place he felt most at home. Number 4 Private Drive, was NOT home. Nor were the Dursley's anything more than basic caretakers to the teen, and in all honesty, sometimes not even that. Things were admittedly more bearable than previous summers since the members of The Order of the Phoenix had made a point to inform the Dursley's that he was going to be watched and guarded. And should anything seem out of sorts with The-Boy-Who-Lived, well, there _would_ be consequences.

The Dursley's were now permanently wary of every twitch that Harry made, every step and stumble. They seemed determined to maintain a distance in words and actions since they could not escape with a distance of a more conventional definition. In short, they did all they could to avoid him, which was perfectly alright with Harry.

That didn't stop them from giving him chores, though. Harry had just finished wiping his hands dry on the towel beside the sink after scrubbing the breakfast dishes when his uncle's voice spat out the first words directed at him that morning.

"Here, Boy," Vernon Dursley sneered behind him. "This is yours."

Harry spun around in surprise for three very good reasons. One, his uncle had said less than five words to him since his return from school almost two months past, so the abrupt nature of this announcement caught him off guard. Two, Harry actually owned few possessions and none of them were anywhere that the Dursley's would find them. And three, Harry was always jumping at odd noises and shadows.

This last reason was because of the self-proclaimed Dark Lord Voldemort, commonly known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who (though Harry had a secret penchant to call him "Moldy-Voldy", "The-Creature-Formerly-Known-As-Tom-Riddle"or his favorite "Evil Bastard"), was enthusiastically taking great pains at making Harry more miserable than any sixteen year old boy should be.

Voldemort had managed to kill his parents when he was a mere year old, stripping him of any chance of a normal, secure, loving home life and leaving him with...well, the Dursley's. They had regular annual meetings where they each tried to off the other with various results. Neither ever made it out of the confrontations the same, and there was always a price. A painful price...Harry cringed at the thought of his godfather and the tremendous guilt and grief that was always hovering about him, waiting for any opportunity to swoop in and squeeze his chest tight till he felt the very breath was being sucked from his body. The pain of that loss rivaled the feelings he got from the Dementors that had entered his life during his third year, because this time, it was his fault.

Sirius Black had taken a vital part of Harry with him when he fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. Harry felt lost, hopeless, he felt responsible. The weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders was a light burden compared to the weight of his own self-reproach. Somehow, the burden of responsibility was easily overshadowed by the burden of his guilt and regret. The past, the unchangeable past was more real to him, and the feelings from it so much heavier than those wispy dreams he had of a future free of Voldemort and a world with some semblance of peace.

Sirius had taken up a place in Harry's heart as a sort of father figure, though they had actually known each other for so short a time, before he had been ripped violently away. Since that day, the frequency of Death Eater attacks on both wizarding and muggle communities has spiked to a rate that rivaled the activities of Voldemort's first reign of terror.

Every death, every injury in this war was like a blow to Harry. He _had _to face Voldemort. And he had to defeat him, or die trying. It was fate, destiny, inescapable...and the longer it took for him to prepare and stand against the Dark Lord for the last time, the more people would be sacrificed for his gluttonous desire for power. Harry had started to count the time by death. Every hour was another life. Every day was a massacre. Every delay was another grave marked in blood.

That was why Harry was so quick to react when his uncle's voice cut through the habitual silence, he was rather startled himself to find that he was pointing the wand he kept hidden up his sleeve at all times at Vernon Dursley's forehead. It seems that all those duels and extra work had improved his reflexes beyond what he had expected. If nothing else, Harry was determined to be prepared for another confrontation with Voldemort. He didn't want anyone else to die. Not for him, not because of him, and definitely not in spite of him.

Vernon squeaked a most unmanly sound and jerked his head back, exposing his third and fourth chins to the slim hand of his nephew. Harry took a moment to resettle his nerves and tucked the wand away before anyone could so much as protest about its presence to begin with. Harry was observant enough to catch his Aunt Petunia snatching her hands from in front of her where she had been holding something, as if they had been burnt.

Harry stared dumbly at the three figures huddled at the kitchen table. The Dursley's were alternating between throwing him looks of fear and disgust. While that was nothing particularly new, the reasons for their attention, after almost two months of ignoring him completely, was innocently sitting in the center of the kitchen table, doing nothing more threatening than taking up space.

Harry allowed his confusion to show on his face and shifted his eyes from each of his relatives to the simple wooden box centered between them. Any words that he might have managed to force from his throat were swallowed in the strained silence that sank over them. He settled for a moment of quietly observing them and ignored the battered container in favor of analyzing their behavior. If they weren't so...Dursley-ish, he might have been worried that they were under the Imperius curse. Imagine, the Dursley's giving him a gift...Harry shook his head.

But no, Harry, decided after a few moments of watching his uncle's walrus mustache quiver and his jowls shake with his suppressed rage and fear and his aunt had paled until even her lips were left bloodless and indistinguishable from the rest of her washed out skin. . They were still the same as ever. Even Dudley was acting normal, if that is what you could call staring hatefully at everything around you and making little snorts and snuffs through his pig-like nose. His tiny eyes were half hidden behind heavy eyelids and were darting angrily between Harry and the utterly dull looking rectangle of wood between them. It was obvious that the heavyset boy was battling his urge to snatch the box up and claim it simply because it was not his to claim. It was a habit that had only grown stronger as Dudley got older, and consequently, more spoiled.

A slight smirk lifted the corners of Harry's lips when his beefy cousin met his eyes again. Vivid green clashed with limpid blue and the puffy red of Dudley's cheeks flushed darker in anger and fear and he let out a small girly shriek of dismay and ducked his head down to stare at the table top.

Harry tapped his wrist against the leg of his ratty, oversized jeans and felt the reassuring weight of his wand tucked carefully out of sight. After all, you couldn't be too careful. "Mine?" he queried with every bit of his skepticism plain to see on his face. "I don't ever remember having a box like that."

Harry watched in morbid fascination as his Uncle Vernon changed color from a garish red to a blotchy purple. "That is because we hadn't given in to you yet," the large man forced out between clenched teeth as if he were enduring some great pain. He was much braver when there was no physical evidence around of Harry's _abnormality_, though he did keep shifting his gaze down to the long sleeve clad arms where he knew Harry kept his wand.

Harry's eyebrows disappeared under the thick fringe of hair hanging in clumps over his forehead. "A gift?" he blinked in surprise. "You got me a gift?" Harry was truly shocked and could have swore that he felt the world tilt off its regular rotations. Last night had been his birthday, his sixteenth, to be exact. Perhaps some planets had aligned or some such when he wasn't paying attention. He couldn't help flicking his gaze upward as if he could find physical evidence of such an astronomical change of the heavenly bodies through the ceiling before focusing on his relatives again. His green eyes landed on Vernon's round squashy shape and shrugged at the planet sized man.

"It isn't like we had any bloody choice!" Vernon suddenly yelled and leapt to his feet with all the grace of a landlocked whale. A fierce glare gave Harry warning that his uncle was only moments from losing his temper. Over the years, Harry had seen his uncle in a similar state so often that it was what Harry actually referred to as the state of normalcy in the Dursley household. This was the way things were. This is what he was used to. This he was comfortable with. This he could handle.

Harry relaxed in a way he had not been able to since his silent stay at his relatives had begun. He cooly met that look with a visible warning of his own which effectively put a strangle hold on whatever his Uncle had been preparing to scream. After encountering, fighting, and dueling with the self proclaimed Dark Lord Voldemort successively year after year, the power of fear that Vernon Dursley had once had over the young Harry Potter had been severely diminished. As a matter of fact, Harry found a certain amount of amusement in his Uncle's attempts to terrorize him into submission.

Quickly stifling his words to an angry mutter, Vernon reached out and roughly shoved the rectangular wooden box at him across the table. He snarled with the viciousness of the enraged bull he so resembled and lowered himself back into his chair which creaked in protest.

Harry automatically caught the object before its momentum could sent it crashing to the floor and examined it without looking at it. The pads of his fingers traced and smoothed over the grain of the wood on the old box as he searched the faces of his relatives for any sign that this was some sort of set up. Harry reminded himself that they would have been showing signs of struggling to mask their glee had they found a way to make his life any more difficult, and finally decided that they were too miserable to have staged something. He shrugged and looked down to examine his newest possession. It was a wooden box, roughly six by eight inches but only about three inches in height.

Nicks and scratches marred the natural surface but instead of making it ugly, it seemed antiqued, used...friendly. He carefully searched the block of wood for a hinge or crack to indicate how it opened but came up empty. Frowning at the simple six sided stick, Harry shot an unamused look a the unhappy trio perched for flight at the table as if he were standing there handling a bomb rather than what appeared to be the most un-ornamental wooden paperweight ever created. "Thanks," he announced stiffly. "I'll treasure it always."

Vernon gnashed his teeth together at the sarcasm dripping from his nephew's words and with a disgusted snort, he shoved himself from his chair and stomped from the room. Harry watched in satisfaction as Dudley followed his father from the room and turned his eyes to his aunt. He was surprised to find her normally vapid eyes flashing dangerously at him in an anger all her own.

"It was your mother's," she sneered and clenched her fingers into fists in front of her. "For a little while, anyway."

Harry shot her an incredulous look at the mention of his mother and tensed for the verbal abuse that he knew always followed the subject of his parents and their "_unnaturalness_". Harry faltered when Petunia Dursley glared at him with a rage usually only seen in her husbands eyes. "What-" he choked out, and tried to start again. "What do you mean?"

She primly folded her hands in front of her and refused to meet his eyes. She finally let go of the sour pinched pucker that graced her thin lips as she thought back on something that Harry couldn't comprehend. "That was our grandmother's," she said waved a hand at the box. "And her mother's before that."

"An heirloom?" Harry blinked in confusion and tightened his hold on the piece of wood. Just the knowledge that this thing had rested in his mothers hands was enough to make it dear to him. He had some things from his father; the invisibility cloak, the marauders map...even a surviving marauder. But of his mother, he had nothing. Until now...He certainly didn't count the Dursley's.

Petunia merely scowled and nodded. "For _your_ kind," she hissed and shivered. "I tried to burn it, chop it up," she confessed with growing anger. "It kept showing back up as if nothing had happened to it..."

Harry examined the block of wood more carefully and wished for better light than the weak glow trickling in from Petunia's heavy curtains. He went over his aunt's words in his head and suddenly realized what she had said. "You mean there were other witches in Mum's family!"

Petunia cringed and glared at her nephew with utter loathing. "What? Did you think that Lily was special? Ha!" she spat out. "She was just another freak. An abomination to us normal people. There was something wrong in the Blood. Grandpere was right about that, anyway."

Harry bit his tongue to quell the angry retort that was begging to slip past his lips. If he gave into it, he knew that he would blow any chance he had at getting any additional information from his aunt. Instead he managed to school his features into a disbelieving look that just begged her to tell him differently.

"Oh, they knew well enough what was coming when _Perfect Lily _was born," Petunia spat out the name. "You have those same eyes," she continued in a hiss. "Those same unnatural eyes. Grandpere couldn't stand it. Told Mum and Dad to get rid of the brat when she was first born. They wouldn't hear of it of course."

Harry watched in shock as his aunt nodded her head in agreement with her long dead grandfather. That the hatred he had grown up to detest in his last remaining family was as strong in his mothers time as it was in his made his head spin. His mother must have faced that same horrid prejudice as the Dursley's now showed. And as detestable as that sounded, Harry couldn't help but feel as if that made him so much closer to his mother than he had been before.

He bit his tongue to quell the angry retort that was begging to slip past his lips. If he gave into it he knew that he would blow any chance of hearing more about this side of his family.

Petunia pinched her lips back together furiously and seemed to be fighting her own urge to spit out at him. She seemed to lose herself in another memory, distasteful by her expression though it was hard to tell. "You should have seen her," she frowned, "Coming back from school with all of those things in her trunk...Grandmere was so proud."

Harry briefly thought that he saw a flash of pain cross his aunts features but dismissed it when the look vanished as quickly as it had appeared. When his aunt paused for a long moment, Harry prodded her, "My Great Grandmother was a witch?"

Petunia hissed between her teeth and glared at her nephew. "No!" she denied vehemently. "Grandmere didn't have your filthy disease like her mother did, but she followed with tradition, and passed that...that _thing_ to Lily. If you could have seen," Petunia continued. "When Lily turned sixteen, Grandmere handed her that box, and things were never that same. She did something to them."

Harry didn't have a clue what she was talking about but watched as his aunt fell silent, obviously remembering what was for her a terrible time. The lost look and hatred in her eyes was like watching a twisted madness bloom out into full insanity. He was appalled that his family history had been kept from him for so long, and at the same time, he found himself absolutely fascinated with the characters his aunt was making such brief reference to. He knew that Lily and Petunia's parents had been killed before he was ever born and had never heard any mention of any other member of his family. It was entirely possible that he had other great aunts or uncles, cousins even, out there still, from the Evans family. He only knew of his Aunt Marge and she was actually Vernon's sister and as such was only an aunt by marriage, not blood.

Harry tried to take all of this information in and found himself slightly off balance and forced to sit down in the same chair abandoned by his uncle. "But that means that there is old wizarding blood in both sides of my family," he spoke out loud. "I wonder what line Mum comes from..."

"As to that, your mother," Petunia sneered as if her own relationship with Lily did not exist, "researched the tainted blood on our family." She paused long enough to shudder again. "Laughed like a loon when she got it all figured out, she did. Claimed no one would believe her if she told them..."

"Told them what?" Harry asked. He was entranced by now and would have given anything for his aunt to finish her thought.

Petunia waved her bony hands dismissively. "Something about magical creatures and all that," she sneered. "Claimed we weren't even fully human! Can you believe that! Me! Not Human?"

Harry could feel a welling of excitement rushing through his veins. His mother wasn't as muggleborn as everyone had thought. There was another type of magic in his history. Magic that his mother had figured out...

Harry immediately was reminded of the prophecy and wondered if this could be the source of the power that was supposedly hidden from Voldemort. If so... "Did she ever say what kind of magical, uh, creature?" he asked hopefully.

Petunia returned to glaring at her nephew. "I wouldn't know," she sniffed.

"Oh," he replied and bit his lip.

"Well," she drew herself up and squared her boney shoulders. With a fluttering gesture at the box gripped in his hands she said, "Now you have it and I don't have to look at the bloody thing anymore."

Harry stared at his irate aunt for one more long moment and realized that he wouldn't be getting any more information from her this day, possibly ever. In a slight daze, he wandered away from the horse faced woman and wandered off to his room to examine his new puzzle.

As he climbed the narrow set of stares, Harry found himself staring at and lightly caressing the worn wood of the box. He could feel the slight ridges and cracks in the surface under the sensitized pads of his fingertips. If the dips and bumps were not so random, he would have sworn that it felt like there was writing on the surface of the block. The light in the hall was even dimmer than that of the kitchen and he resigned himself to waiting those last few steps to his small room to flip on the ceiling light and throw open the curtains to allow the day light to enter in.

Though he was in rather good shape, Harry found himself huffing slightly as if out of breath as he quickened his pace down the hall. He wondered why he had butterflies in his stomach, and why he felt so nervous over such a small object. As he pushed the door open with one hand, the other clutching his gift tightly to his chest, Harry could only conclude that it was just the shock of so many secrets being thrown at him in such a short time. All the questions now rushing through his head and the wealth of emotions that battered at the walls around his heart left him stunned and confused.

He stepped into his room and immediately slammed the door shut behind him. This, he decided, was private. It was a connection to his mother...and _no one _was going to intrude on it now.

* * *

Part Two: Secret Pain 

Harry tossed and turned until he found himself in a tight stranglehold and an impromptu wrestling match with his own sheets. Once he had managed to defeat the bedding with a stunningly flexible maneuver, he found himself blinking at the flashing numbers on his perfectly normal muggle alarm clock. Wrinkling his nose at the early hour, Harry found himself contemplating making another attempt at sleeping. But with one short look at the heap of blanket twisted about on the floor, he reconsidered that idea and decided that he was not quite up to a rematch yet.

He stretched his arms wide above his head and yawned until he felt the familiar feel of his jaw popping. He managed to shrug into one of Dudley's old cast offs before fishing around on the night stand for his glasses. Nimble fingers found the slightly battered frames and smoothly transferred them to his face without jabbing himself in the eye as he was known on occasion to do after such a rough night. Another yawn pulled his lips into a large O as the events of yesterday filtered through the unfocused haze of his thoughts.

All traces of sleep vanished the moment that Harry recalled the mysterious wooden box presented to him just the morning before. He had spent the rest of the yesterday morning and a great deal of the afternoon prodding and poking at the bland looking object with no results at all. It had remained nothing but a worn block of wood no matter how minutely that he had tried to examine it. He had even worked up the courage to shake it...hard, and the faint rattling inside was both encouraging and slightly worrisome. It meant that it _DID_ open and that there was something inside, but also that it was entirely possible that whatever it was, was well and truly broken.

It had become increasingly obvious that the item would only be opened by magic. Magic that he was under an age restriction to keep him from accessing it, magic that would obviously take more than an "alohamora" and would probably need some extensive research, neither of which limitation he was in any position to conquer at the moment. No, there was still four more weeks of summer break to muddle through before Harry would find himself in the one place that had ever felt like home. Hogwarts would always be the place that Harry called home. It was the one place that sparked more good memories, though those were becoming scarce as well, than any other location. So with a Snape worthy scowl, Harry forced himself to burry his gift in the recesses of his school trunk to await his opportunity to unlock its secrets.

Harry carefully folded his newest treasure in the cloth of his invisibility cloak and with great reluctance, shut the lid on the trunk with a hesitant snap. He stood slowly from where he had been kneeling on the floor and pursed his lips in annoyance. It felt...wrong...to shut it away like that, giving him a great sense of loss. But with such limited options, what else could he do but wait?

With narrowed eyes and his resolve firm, Harry reminded himself that there was another matter to look into when he set foot in the castle again. His family history was well and clearly outlined on his father's side, but just as Harry had little to remind himself of his mother, he had little information of the origins of the Evans family. And aunt Petunia wasn't talking. It was obvious by her tight lipped avoidance that his mother's family had its own secrets. There was more to his mothers blood than anyone knew. Except that Lily had obviously told her sister at some point.

Not human...that could be just about anything. As far as Harry could tell, there was a great number of magical creatures with the ability and the inclination to take human witches and wizards as mates. This list as to what creatures had been breed into the lines of the magical populous was long and intricate. He was well acquainted with the half giant, Hagrid, and two half Veela, the Delecrois sisters from the Triwizard tournament, so he knew first hand that the mixing of races was normal for the wizarding world. There was even rumors of the presence of both Veela and Draconian blood in the prestigious pureblood lines of the Malfoy family. Snape himself was rumored to have the taint of the vampire in his blood. Harry previously had easily shrugged these rumors aside as unimportant and never gave a thought to the mingling of non human blood in the older families. It had never really concerned him.

But now, now he had no more than that singular clue to his own heritage. It was odd how he had spent the majority of his youth with the Dursley's, relatives of his mother, and yet he was better acquainted with his fathers side of the family. Harry was used to begging information about his father from those who knew him, but never was Lily Evans Potter mentioned except in a passing way that did little but emphasize her relationship with James Potter. Oh, he knew she was smart, opinionated, loving, and such from those stories, but there was nothing of the Lily Evans that existed before she became the future Mrs James Potter.

Now Harry was curious. And it was the deep burning sort of curiosity that meant that he _needed_ to discover what secrets were being held by the family he never knew. And Petunia had said that Lily had figured it out. During her sixth year at Hogwarts, Lily Evans had managed to trace her supposedly Muggle family lines into those of a magical nature. If he could just follow those same steps that she had, Harry knew that he could, with help, find what his mother had been so delighted to share with Petunia. The information was there, obviously, Harry just had to find it.

And he had a feeling that the box was just the tip of the iceberg. It was odd that a whole line of magical heritage had simply been forgotten. For it to remain untraced was not a usual occurrence in the magical world. There were so few left of the pureblood or old blood lines that they would not have willingly allowed any branch to simply fade from existence. There was no way the ministry or the more intelligent of the old lines would have allowed the magical blood of his mothers family to fade into obscurity, unless there were reasons, a need, a purpose for it to be secreted away. After all, even long lines of Squibs were carefully monitored in case a birth in the family resurrected the magic hiding inside them. What could the Evans' be hiding? What secret could have been so big, so important? And just what type of magic really did run through his veins?

Harry found himself staring down at his trunk again, though he could no longer see the block of battered wood. It seemed that it held no purpose but to take up space and to frustrate its current owner. It did nothing but taunt him for his inability to open it. It was intriguing and infuriating.

Harry briefly considered asking Remus or Dumbledor about the gift. If anyone had known about Lily and her possessions, it would have been them. Perhaps even Sirius had known about her heritage.

Harry blinked in surprise and realized that was the first time that he had been able to think about Sirius Black without the pain of loss striking at his heart. This mystery was proving to be a much welcome distraction from the death of his Godfather. Oh, Harry knew that he would never forget him. But it was nice to be able to think about him at all without it hurting so badly. He managed to smile fondly at a happy memory of Snuffles and gingerly sat at the rickety chair in his room. The snapped off leg in the front was reinforced by a stack of old children's books that Dudley had never touched. For the first time in months, Harry felt good enough to write to his friends.

Up to this point, he had managed to pen short and abrupt responses to Hermione and Ron but that was all. His sour behavior had obviously put them off writing to him as neither had sent him a letter for several weeks now. Nor had he gotten any sort of greetings in response to his birthday. Harry shrugged, he couldn't really blame them. He was able to readily admit that he had been beyond nasty to them this past summer.

Harry turned to his desk and shifted the piles of parchment around until he found Hermione's last letter crumpled at the bottom of a stack of old envelopes. He smoothed out the crinkles with his knuckles and pressed that page flat so he could re-read the message that was now over two weeks old.

_Harry,_

The shortness of the greeting was a testament to Hermione's gradual loss of patience with him over the summer and Harry cringed mentally at the thought of his responses over break. Another easily spotted difference between her usual letters and this, was the short length of the actual message.

_We know that you have been grieving, and we sympathize, we really do, We loved Sirius too. But you have to understand that it wasn't your fault. You can't just blame yourself. I know that you need some time so we'll give you as long as you need. When you are ready to talk, if you want to, we will be right here waiting for you, always. We love you, Harry. Remember that, and come back to us._

She's right you know, mate. We will always be here for you.

Ron's short but equally supportive announcement brought a smile to his lips and Harry felt the empty hole consuming his heart shrink a bit.

_Your best friends_,

_Hermione _

and Ron

Harry traced the names scrawled at the bottom of the page with the blunt tip of his finger nail and pulled a piece of blank parchment over to him. There were several things he had to say, not the least of which was an apology.

After several long and unproductive minutes, Harry growled at himself and clenched the quill in his fist until the hollow snap reminded him that there was absolutely _nothing_ yet written on the page. He was furious with his inability to put how he felt into words. He had never been as eloquent as Hermione, but he liked to think that he had a good handle on his own language when it did come time to communicate. He really didn't think that they would understand or appreciate the litany of "I'm sorry's" that continuously ran through his head. "Sorry I was selfish. Sorry I was insensitive. Sorry I had to drag you down with me. Sorry for putting you in danger year after year. Sorry I wasn't a better friend. Sorry sorry sorry..."

Harry sighed. Just because he was sorry, and he was, didn't mean that he wasn't still angry. Shoulders slumping, Harry faced the fact that he was still as confused about how he felt as when he started this whole mess. He felt like a walking contradiction. He was simultaneously happy and sad, regretful and satisfied, broken and resolved. In the end, Harry had to push the blank face of the page away from him and rest his head on the desk top. Apparently it wasn't as easy as it seemed to face the knot of emotions tangled in his mind.

He sat tall once more and decided something was better than nothing. And apparently there was only one thing that he was entirely certain about.

Grabbing the parchment once more, Harry used the broken quill to scratch out his reply and signed his name with a messy flourish. Hedwig bounced on her perch with barely concealed excitement at finally having the opportunity to go out. She stared at the simple parchment with her big unblinking eyes and bobbed her head happily. Harry quickly rushed the note over to the snowy owl and attached it to her outstretched claw before he could change his mind and sent her off.

As he leaned out the window, his eyes were drawn to the distance when a mournful howling of some stray echoed through the identical streets of Surrey. The lonely sound caused Harry to wrap his arms defensively around his chest to ward off the chill that it caused him, even in the warmth of the latest summer heat wave. He hastily averted his gaze, shrugged off the feeling and turned back to the sky.

Harry scratched his head and watched as Hedwig became no more than a speck in the distance. "I can't believe that I just did that," he muttered and tossed the half of a quill he was still holding on the desk top. In a fit of nerves, he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and contemplated what to do next. He looked about him carefully and found nothing to catch his attention at all. He flopped back down onto the blanketless old bed in the center of the room and frowned at the ceiling.

The endless expanse of white surely did nothing to relieve his boredom but it was better that staring at Dudley's old junk. For a few moments, Harry was tempted to drag the wooden box back out of his trunk but instantly scowled at the idea. Nothing in the last half hour could have possibly changed it and he had no desire to frustrate himself to the point of madness for the second night in a row. No, that would have to wait till Hogwarts.

Harry stacked his hands behind his head with a sigh and mentally went over his homework assignments and was slightly disappointed to realize that they were all done. He hadn't had much to do this summer after all...

He could always practice Occulmency. Harry shuddered but didn't let the idea slip away like he usually did. All summer he had been plagued with bouts of "what if" and each had led to nothing but an increase in heartache. What if he had been better prepared?...what if he had continued his sessions with Snape?...what if he had done more?...worked harder?...listened better?

Harry snarled at himself and clutched his hands into fists under his head. Regretfully he couldn't change the past, but perhaps he still had time to fortify himself for the future. It wasn't like there was anything else to do. After all, even a little bit of progress, was progress...

* * *

Part Three: Shrouded Secrets 

A long low howl pierced the empty night and caused any that heard it to shiver and the hair on their arms to stand at attention. A pale ghostly form drifted lightly over the pavement and stopped at attention when it saw a body of a large snowy owl wing its way north from the upstairs window of one of the identical houses. A dog like grin of accomplishment flitted across a white muzzle. Twin pricked ears stood tall above the pointed face and eyes the color of red wine watched that window with particular interest.

Oh, yes, the mistress would indeed by pleased. Of all the hunts, she had been on, this one was definitely the most rewarding, though she wouldn't have the pleasure of consuming this _particular _prey. Not that she wanted to eat the two legged creature, anyway. They tasted awful, if she remembered correctly. With a good natured whine, she trotted closer to the object of her attentions and wagged her long fluffy tail like a flag of truce. Her white fur seemed to glow in the weak light of the moon, but she was careful to remain hidden from unwanted attention. The humans were not really a problem as they saw only what they wanted to see anyway. To most, she was as invisible as Death himself.

Pacing around the perimeter of the small building, she traced every scent that had been there since the last rain and committed each to memory. It would not do to have her charge disappear when she had only just found him after all. And from what her mistress had said, the boy was indeed in danger of sudden disappearances. A surprising scent of wolf, male, unmated, hung about the edges of the property and she was pleased a the prospect of some company. By the heavy musk, she could tell that he was a magical beast, much like herself, and undoubtedly better company that the wild variety of canine that ran about.

Careful exploration led her to the wards of wizarding magic where the disruption in the flow of the natural forces tickled her nose. She sneered in disgust at the mangled knot of magic and fluffed the fur on the ruff of her neck out and wondered at the absurdity of such a tangle. Really, what were they thinking, twisting things up like that when it is so much easier to layer the spells by working _with_ the natural flow of things rather than against it...

Shaking herself back to her task, she went about layering her own spells in the fabric of reality and set about her newest mission. The protection of Harry James Potter, until her mistress was certain that he was ready for the truth. If the stories of his life to this point held any measure of truth, they might be in for a long wait indeed. The boy had no reason to trust them, and it wasn't as if they could approach him on their own. No, they were forced to wait in the shadows until he called their names. Only then would he be prepared to meet what was left of his family.

She folded her legs under her and made herself comfortable in the arms of her true mother and sighed in satisfaction. The energy of the Earth rose around her and embraced her furred form in warmth and acceptance. So far, things were going well. They had set out to find the boy as soon as he had reached his majority, (in their eyes at least) and his magic had collided with the that of their people, meaning that at least one of their heirlooms had survived this long in this realm. The faint throb of power in her chest led her here, to this unobtrusive little human home and as she grew closer, the pulse grew stronger and the first tentative bond between them was forged.

Harry Potter was powerful, there was no question about that. No, what she had to consider was that repressing this side of his magic for so long may had rendered it out of reach. In which case, no matter how hard he called to them, it would never be enough to break the barrier between their world and his and let them through. If that happened then the separation between the family would be permanent, and the flow of magic in this world would fade into nothingness...

* * *

please review! Constructive criticism is welcome, but I ask that you do not send nasty flames just for the sake of being mean. If you don't like it, don't read it. It is that simple! Anywho, let me know what you think. 

hide-N-seeker


	2. Between the Lines

NOTE: CHAPTER ONE WAS EXTENDED!

And I could still use a beta...I'm obviously having minor motivational problems and when I do get into the mood to write, I can't seem to find an appropriate place to stop! Grammar and Spelling mistakes are common for me so please forgive any errors. As for issues with names and spells and such, be aware that I am far from home and do not have copies of any of the books on hand...I will mess up with out guidance...

You know, I realized while writing this chapter, I have no idea how to write Dumbledor. I can't get the correct amount of manipulative fanaticism . Damn those twinkly eyes!

Oh, and birds can and do hiss, especially birds of prey. It's kinda this open beaked warning spat. I know this because I have volunteered at an animal sanctuary on several occasions as well as been the unfortunate owner of several less wild variety of fowl. Bloody messy creatures...the smaller they are, the messier they are too. Probably why I find Pig so amusing!

Well, I just wanted to thank the five people who reviewed and say that I really had not expected such encouraging words on the first chapter. Most reviewers never get out more than "Update soon" or some other useless platitude, so I must thank you guys for taking the time to actually respond to the story! Your responses give me the motivation to keep writing.

On to chapter two.

Hide-n-seeker

* * *

Chapter two: Between the lines 

Several days later, Harry woke to find three owls camped out on the headboard above his bed. Three sets of wide yellow eyes stared at him with unblinking patience. It was one of the few habits of owls, Hedwig in particular, that rather unnerved him. They could stare for hours without so much as ruffling a feather. And the owls that were bonded to the magical world through their human partner tended to have eyes that glowed even in the weakest light.

As soon as they noticed that he was awake, those stares turned into glares. Even Hedwig was giving him the evil eye. Harry ran a hand through his mussed hair and glared back. "I didn't do it," he muttered at them without bothering to find out what had them in such a state first.

Hedwig hooted at him haughtily and lifted her leg to shake a large parcel at him. The other two birds, who Harry recognized as Errol and Hermes, two of the Weasley's owls, mimicked Hedwig and soon a flurry of feathers were floating through the air. Harry took a closer look and blinked in astonishment. The two male barn owls were both tied to the same package...no wonder they were pissed off.

Harry threw his covers aside and relieved them of their burden, receiving several sharp nips in the process. "Ouch! That is hardly necessary," he informed Hedwig when she swatted him in the head with one large wing. He looked at the snowy owl who was now looking rather pleased with herself and set the packages aside. "Where have you been, girl? I've missed you."

Hedwig fluffed her feathers up and bobbed her head, pleased that her human was so attentive to her. Most owls were not so lucky. For Harry, she was more than a servant, more than a pet. She was his companion and his friend. It was one of the quirks about the boy that she loved so much. Harry gave his affection to anyone and everyone that would let him, regardless of race or species and Hedwig could only imagine what the boy would be like when he ever fell in love. It would be a very special person who, she would make certain herself, was deserving of her master's attentions.

She hustled the other two intruders from her perch and sent them on their way with a sharp nip at their tail feathers and ignored their affronted screeches with practiced skill. She had babysat them enough both on the flight over here and while they waited for Harry to wake up since she forbade them from waking him themselves. She had seen the tired circles under his eyes and was worried for him. Of course, with the way he attracted trouble, Hedwig was _always_ worried about him.

Harry watched the white owl as she preened herself for several minutes before running a tired hand through his hair again. "I suppose I should open these," he sighed and fingered the brown paper covering the first package. "I suppose they were all at Grimmauld Place?" he asked referring to his friends and his surrogate family.

Hedwig bobbed her head again in affirmation before returning to her task to clean her feathers.

"Right, then," he straightened up and tried to hide the growing feeling of dread behind a false bravado. He knew Hedwig wasn't fooled when she clicked her beak at him several times. "Okay," he hastened to assure her. "I'll open them."

Grabbing the smaller of the two, he ripped at the paper until a scrap of parchment fell out and the edges of a box were exposed. He recognized the parchment as the same piece that he sent out several days earlier to Ron and Hermione and cringed when he remembered the less than satisfactory line he had scribbled to his friends.

With slightly shaking hands, he unfolded the ragged edges and found his original message still scrawled across the top, just above his signature. He stared at the words miserably and wished that he had been able to say more, though what he could have added would have been just as cryptic and still not enough to really say what he wanted. His own words stared back at him. Three little words, the same ones he repeated time and time again with out knowing how to explain the extent of the meaning behind them. _I am sorry,_ he read, green eyes skimming over the plain script over and over again.

Almost against his will, Harry found his gaze traveling down the length of the parchment to find the returned message and was surprised to notice that the letter back to him was just as short. Hermione's elegant script curled across the middle of the parchment and was followed with not one, not two, but what he would guess to be a dozen signatures below. Harry snapped his eyes to Hermione's response and quickly read the words. He had to read it several times before the meaning sank in and he couldn't help but smile when her return message became clear.

_We all are_, he stared at the message and grinned. For the first time since school had ended and he had begun to deal with his grief, Harry didn't feel so alone. He wasn't the only one who missed Sirius or the only one thinking about him. Hermione's message was followed by signatures of everyone who fondly remembered his god father and several of the DA members that had been there in the Department of Mysteries with him. Neville, Luna, all of the Weasley's with the exception of Percy, Dumbledor, Minerva McGonagall, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks ( who signed in a bizarre shade of florescent orange), Lupin and Hermione herself had all scratched their mark on the tattered page.

Harry felt, rather than heard, Hedwig flutter over and then her familiar weight settled on his shoulder. He barked a short laugh and rubbed a thumb across the parchment. "Hedwig," he informed the proud owl, "I do believe that I will keep this," he reached up and stroked her soft feathers and quietly thanked her. He reached over and found his family photo album that had been spelled to never run out of space, and a tucked the scrap of parchment into the back page where it would remain as a reminder that he was never alone, even in his grief.

Hedwig simply settled herself more firmly on her master's shoulder and encouraged him to open the rest of the box. Harry allowed himself to laugh at her antics and set aside the picture book and at her insistence, tore into the package. With exaggerated care, Harry reached in and lifted out what appeared to be a lidded onyx cauldron that was decorated with unfamiliar symbols and runes. Harry set the bowl in his lap and checked to make sure that there was nothing remaining inside the box before proceeding and was rewarded with another letter, this one longer and more specific and written in Remus Lupin's blocked letters.

_Harry, _

_This gift comes from all of us and is of a more personal nature than any gift we have ever given you. We realize that Sirius will never truly leave us as long as we remember him in our hearts. This just makes things a bit easier for all of us. We all contributed and were comforted by its making and hope that it can offer you as much in the receiving. __We tried to give you more than the best by allowing you to see Sirius as he was, including the parts that may have been a bit rough about the edges. For all his flaws, Sirius loved you, and so do we. Happy birthday, Harry._

_Yours,_

_R. Lupin_

Harry let the letter fall to the bed and with shaking hands, he took the cauldron up in a white knuckled grip. He had a feeling that he knew what this was and if he was right, he wanted a more stable place to set it down before he removed the lid. He slid into the three legged chair at the desk and firmly set the onyx bowl in front of him. He played with the edges of the lid until Hedwig dug her claws into his shoulder with uncharacteristic impatience.

"Okay, okay!" Harry twisted the top a few measures to the left until several more of those little squiggles matched up to continue the pattern of unfamiliar runes and the lid was released from the bowl with little coaxing. Inside, a pearlescent liquid swirled about in deep eddies like fog on the moors. Harry recognized the lustrous material as copies of memories set in what he now was sure was a pensive; memories of Sirius Black.

Harry swallowed hard past the thick lump blocking his throat and sucked in a ragged breath. He found the need to press the heals of his palms to his stinging eyes in the effort to hold the tears that he successfully kept back until now. For all his mourning, Harry had not allowed himself to cry for his godfather the way he should have long ago. A muffled sob was buried into those same hands when Harry found that this time, there would be no holding back the tears.

Hedwig clutched the shaking shoulders under her talons and plucked the skewed glasses from his head. She chirped softly in her masters ear, playing with his hair and attempting to sooth him. She had known that her master had been holding his hurt inside and was glad that he had finally found it necessary to let it out. If he allowed himself to mourn properly, he could then heal. As much as he might hurt now, it would get better as he faced his grief.

Harry couldn't have stopped the flow of anguish any longer and was slightly disappointed to find that this time, he didn't want to. In some ways, Harry still believed that he had no right to actually grieve for the man he had led to his death. With the guilt of his actions came the weight of culpability. He still felt that he didn't _deserve _to mourn for his godfather.

He cried for what seemed like hours and only lifted his head when his aching eyes were swollen and red rimmed, and he couldn't find the energy to do more than force his body to breathe past the hic-coughs that accompanied his sobbing. He gathered the pensive in his arms and rested his forehead on the rim opposite him, so that he was gazing mere inches away from the swirling mass of memories.

"Sirius," he called softly to the glowing mist. "Sirius, I'm so sorry."

It was not lost on Harry just how often that phrase was slipping past his lips lately. He knew that what he held was more precious than any other gift they could have given him. His friends had given him memories of Sirius Black that would never fade, never wear, and never lose their intensity. And Harry loved them for it.

Harry heaved a heavy sigh and made a gesture to the other box with one hand while the other replaced his glasses. "Is there anything in there that I need to get out right away?" He asked the owl still perched on his shoulder. "I would like to..." He gestured at the cauldron unable to articulate his need.

Hedwig took the hint and assured her master that anything in there could wait and left his side for her perch in the corner beside her cage. Another thing that she appreciated from Harry was that he never caged her unless he had no choice. The Dursley's had left off complaining about her coming and going this summer and Harry had taken that to mean that she was free to move about as long as she stayed in his room and was careful not to be seen whenever she left the house. Needless to say, both were enjoying that little reprieve. They had the day to themselves, with out interruption.

Harry watched the snowy owl tuck her head under her wing and settle her grip on the wooden perch where she slept. He smiled at her still form and shook his head, wondering how he had been blessed with such a smart bird. Sometimes he found that she knew what he wanted before he did. With one last glance in her direction, he determined to feed her some of her special treats tonight before bed in thanks. Then he pushed himself closer to the desk and took a deep breath before plunging his mind into the swirl of thoughts collected below his nose. He knew it would be several hours before he would resurface.

* * *

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! You come down here right now and explain this!" 

Ron winced, knowing that whatever his mother was screaming about now was certain to land him in trouble. She only called out his full name when she was especially pissed at him. He quickly rehearsed several all purpose excuses before dragging his feet toward the main hall. The most common was "Gred and Forge did it," and was generally excepted without further comment.

The Noble House of Black had been invaded by a mass of Weasley's as soon as the school term had ended. Ron didn't mind so much that they were here instead of the Burrow, but without Harry, it just wasn't the same. Hermione had helped relieve the boredom when she had arrived only two weeks into the holidays, but she was not Harry. As much as he loved her, there was only so much of Hermione he could take when she was firmly set in study mode, which had been as soon as the library had been deemed habitable. She was in there now, helping Remus sort out the Dark Arts books from their safer counterparts. Yes, without Harry, Ron was absolutely bored.

So far this summer, contact with Harry had been close to non-existent. They had all tried to write to him and had gotten little to no response until a few days past when his letter had come with Hedwig. They had all gathered around the table when it arrived and waited for Hermione to read it aloud. Everyone here at Grimmauld place was worried about him. With Sirius gone, and isolated as he was with those muggles, who knows what Harry was going through. Imagine their surprise, Ron shook his head when he remembered Harry's last letter. _I am sorry,_ he had written...and that was all. After a summer worth of worry and stress, and three words caused the whole house to let out a breath of relief. Harry was going to be okay. Or so they said.

Personally, Ron figured that the others just wanted to believe that. Hermione's response hadn't made much more sense but no one listened to him. He figured that Harry would be more interested in knowing that Umbridge's mandates had been lifted, and that Ron was currently watching over his firebolt for him. Instead, she writes _we all are,_ and everyone rushed to sign it like it was some literary masterpiece (not that he had ever read one), well, everyone except for Snape. Though the potions professor had contributed to Harry's birthday present without complaint. As a matter of fact, he insisted that he take part to "make sure Potter knows what that mutt was really like," though he didn't dare say so in front of Remus.

"RONALD!" Molly Weasley screeched up the stairwell.

Ron cringed again and followed the echo over the landing until he could look down on his mother through the spindled rails. His already slow steps began to drag more when he caught the look on her face. Molly Weasley's face was flushed about the cheeks and her blue eyes glittered brightly amongst all that red. Her hair frazzled wildly out of its tie as if she had been running, which, given the way she was huffing and puffing, was likely.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered to himself with a scowl.

"I heard that young man."

Ron gave his mother a sheepish look and ducked his head as she glared. "Uh, Gred and Forge...?" he began hopefully.

"Not likely." Molly said uncrossing her arms and waving a pale envelope at her youngest son. "Do you know what this is!"

Ron followed the wildly fluttering parchment in his mother's fingers with his eyes and announced after several moments. "No, and I won't if you can't hold it still long enough for me to read it."

"None of your cheek, you hear?" Molly scolded him. "This," she announced waving the letter around more vigorously that ever, "is your OWL results."

Ron paled, "OWLs?" he squeaked.

From somewhere several floors up and two halls over, a door slammed against its frame with a bang, followed by the sound of steadily running feet on the wooden floor boards. A pause marked the person's progress to the stair well, followed by further stomping along. Before Molly could respond to Ron's hesitation, a head of bushy brown hair appeared over the railing one floor up from where Ron was standing.

"Did I hear you say that our OWLs were in!" Hermione breathed excitedly. She didn't wait for an answer, rather, she dashed down the next set of stairs. She grabbed Ron by his arm as she passed, and dragged him to the main level where Molly was holding a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at the sight of Hermione's slight form dragging her much taller blushing son behind her.

When all three were standing more or less on the same level, Molly smiled and handed the envelope to the poor girl literally bouncing on her toes. "Here you go dear. Your scores, and Harry's are here as well."

Hermione let out a squeal that most girls reserved for the purpose of attracting (or repelling) the opposite sex and tore the seal off in one smooth motion.

Ron blinked, his horrified gaze traveling from his crush to his mother and back again. He whimpered at the scowl his mother flashed at him and slowly sank down till he was sitting on the stairs. Wait, the letter was still sealed, so she couldn't possibly know his results yet, could she? So what was she so mad about? Oh yeah, that screaming match he had with Snape yesterday...

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed, brown eyes widened comically . She had pressed one hand to her chest, as if warding off an impending heart attack before looking up.

"That bad?" he grumbled. Suddenly with more cheer he added, "I must of done better than the twins though, right?"

"Ron," Hermione shook her head at the red head in exasperation.

"You better have," Molly growled and re-crossed her arms.

Ron looked desperately at the head of bushy hair bent over the next page with a frown curving over her lips. She paid him no mind and traced her finger over the dark blue ink as she read. "'Mione," he grunted at her.

Hermione's head shot up and met his pleading blue eyes, her own honey brown softening in response. "You did rather well, Ron." she told him with a little grin. "I'm proud of you."

"Did well?" Molly repeated and quick as a flash, she had Ron's scores in her hand. She bent to her task, eyes moving frantically back and forth over the page without comment until the very end. When she looked up again, her eyes were suspiciously wet. "Oh, my," she gave her son a watery smile and lurched forward to embrace the taller red head. When she gave him a sloppy kiss on his chin, as she was now too short to reach his cheek, Ron went from general confusion to absolute bewilderment.

"Wha..?"

Molly Weasley released her son and skipped from the room, Ron's scores still clutched firmly in her hands.

"'Mione, what just happened?"

"Really, Ron, didn't you read it all the way through?" she answered absently, still examining her own scores. "It explains the whole system at the top of the page."

"I didn't even get to hold the bloody envelope!" he exclaimed, pointing at the evidence still in her hands. "What was my score? Must of been okay since Mum isn't yelling her head off..."

Hermione blinked in surprise at Ron. She glanced down the hall where Molly had disappeared and a tiny smile curled her lips. "Nine, you got nine OWLs. Ron, and an award for the placing in the top five highest scores in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"They give awards for top scores at Hogwarts?" Ron asked, his scores not quite sinking in.

"Not top scores at Hogwarts, silly, top scores in all the European wizarding schools for this school term. Of all the fifth years that took those tests, you scored in the top five. Quite an accomplishment! That means that you got an honorary O for defense as well as the double OO for outstanding work in both practical and written exam." Hermione shuffled the papers in her hands and handed over her own scores. "See? I got in the top five in Transfiguration, and in the top ten for Charms and Arithmancy."

"Bloody hell!" Ron scanned the proffered pages, gawking at Hermione's fourteen OWLs and her Honorary O in Transfiguration. "Do you get points for the Charms and Arithmancy?"

"No, but it is still a distinction that I can put on my resume when I search for jobs." Hermione replied.

"What about Harry?" Ron asked quickly, surprised that he had done so well, but not all that shocked at Hermione's scores.

Hermione grinned and held out the other parchment. "Twelve," she replied. "And awards for placing in the top ten for both Charms and Transfiguration, and two Honorary O's for placing First in DADA."

"No surprise there. So, you have fifteen, Harry has fourteen, and I got ten?" Ron clarified.

Hermione nodded, her eyes shining.

"Bloody brilliant!" Ron swooped forward and grabbed Hermione in a swift hug, swinging her around in a circle while she laughed. "Wait till Harry hears this! We were so sure that we screwed up, what with all that had happened with Hagrid and all."

"Scores were adjusted for students that were disturbed during testing. I believe that they curve the grading scale up a bit." Hermione explained once Ron let her down.

"I should hope so!" Ron nodded. "I can't wait to tell Harry...hey, Mione? What do you think he's doing right now?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed, her glowing excitement fading a bit. "I don't know, Ron. But Dumbledor said that he was going to contact Harry this week. Maybe he'll be joining us here soon."

"Well, its about time," Ron agreed.

"Yeah, I miss him too."

"I didn't say I missed him!" Ron protested. "That sounds so...so... "

"Don't worry," Hermione said dryly. "Your fragile male sensibilities aren't threatened by admitting to missing your best friend."

Ron just grunted irritably at her.

"Come on," she demanded, grabbing his hand again. "Lets go show Remus!"

Hermione pulled Ron back up the stairs and through the numerous halls, and he made sure to protest, though not too loudly, her hand clasped around his as she marched him through the house.

* * *

It was two days before Harry emerged from his room for longer than the few minutes it took to use the bathroom. He fell, more than walked down the stairs, and stumbled along the hallway, the walls acting as bumpers and directing him on the right course. 

He grimaced at the Dursley's, made a grab for some of the sausages and toast still sitting on the table and wandered back out of the room before they could protest. His first mission had been food. His second was a long hot bath to work out the kinks that had settled in his joints from sitting at the desk for two days straight, hanging over the pensive. He had gone through every memory, some more that once, determined not to miss a thing. He had managed to grin, laugh, and even cry again before he made it through the mass of images. He no longer felt quite like the emotional train wreck. The numbness of his loss was more or less gone now. Instead of the gaping hole, Harry felt that he had somehow reestablished a connection of sorts with Sirius, by sharing him with those that knew him.

Harry wasn't as naive about certain things as others tended to believe him to be. Part of that was his persistent childish look, brought about by his short height and large eyes. He doubted he'd ever be able to completely throw off the innocent look that seemed to have permanently settled on his face. Though that had its advantages too, something his Slytherin side was very aware of.

Harry shuffled through the livingroom on his way back to the staircase when a large owl with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on its leg band swooped out of no where and made itself comfortable on the banister. The tawny wings folded back upon themselves and the owl waited patiently for the sleepy teenager to take its note before sailing back out from where ever it had gotten in.

Harry turned the fresh parchment over in his hands, examining the crest pressed into the wax seal. Figuring that it was his OWL results finally in, Harry flicked the flap open with his thumb. Instead of the scores he expected, Harry found himself scowling at the spidery handwriting of the Headmaster, who he was still fairly pissed at. He briefly considered tossing the message without reading it, but figured that would be too childish of him. It was possible that the old man had actually given him some real information, not likely, but possible.

Harry leapt the last two stairs and sauntered over to his room, casually flicking the locks still hanging on the outside of door with his middle finger as he passed through the frame. His arrival back was greeted with a friendly hoot by Hedwig, who received her share of the sausages and toast with enthusiasm. "Well," Harry told her, "that meddling old man finally sent me something. What do you think it is, Hedwig?" he asked the distracted owl. "Belated condolences? More unexplained orders? Another years worth of lies, all nicely compacted into a travel sized scrap of parchment?" Harry snorted when Hedwig screeched her agreement and flapped her long wings in righteous anger. She had taken a distinct dislike to Dumbledor after her master had been almost killed due to his meddling. And she had liked Sirius Black, if only for the sole reason that he made Harry happy. As far as she was concerned, they could do better on their own rather than allowing themselves to be played like chess pieces in a war they wanted no part of. Not, of course, that they had any choice.

Harry nodded at her and tucked the letter away. "You're right, as usual." he complimented her. "I better wait to read this when I am more awake. Besides, I still have that other package to open."

Harry dragged the long box over to his bed and lifted it with little difficulty. He had expected it to be heavier, considering it's size. He ripped through the wrapping with more enthusiasm than he had showed the other night and found to his delight that there were several smaller parcels inside the large box. Of course, on top was fastened another note, this one no more than a hasty scrawl to explain the contents.

Apparently the updated wards around the house made certain that no magic could be preformed at Private Drive without setting off the alarms. This included timed shrinking spells, so they had been forced to send his birthday gifts as is. The larger box was charmed to remain light no matter what was placed inside, and since the magic on it was actually cast somewhere else, it would not disturb the surveillance surrounding him.

Harry set the large box back on the floor and dug through the assortment of gifts. The twins had sent him the updated version of all their products. Ron had given him the newest Cannon's poster. Mrs. Weasley's care package contained her homemade fudge and several items that would keep for some time without spoiling. Hermione had given him a book on ancient runes so that he could learn about the odd marks etched on his pensive. Professor Lupin had sent a suspicious book simply called _Where To Find It_ which was filled with blank pages that reminded him of Riddle's Diary from his second year. Dobby had even managed to sneak in a set of multicolored toe socks, one a pastel knee high while the other came clear to his hip in jewel tones. Harry laughed out loud and pulled the odd socks off and tucked them into his trunk.

When he had finished examining his presents, Harry reluctantly pulled Dumbledor's letter back out and attempted to read it.

Hedwig clacked her beak in disapproval as her master's face went from sickly pale to an angry flushed as his green eyes scanned across the sheet of parchment. The way that the teens fingers had tightened, she was rather surprised that the paper had not ripped apart. When Harry had finished, he violently twisted the poor sheet into a ball and threw it against the wall where it bounced back at him. He scooped it up and mangled it some more before angrily slamming it against the opposite wall again.

"That bastard!" Harry hissed, sounding too disturbingly snake like for Hedwig's taste. She hooted at him quietly, hoping to see him calm before he hyperventilated. He was doing a poor job of regulating his breathing to an acceptable rate and she grew increasingly concerned as he tottered toward the bed and fell into it.

"I can't believe him, Hedwig," Harry told her in a tired voice. "He's doing the same thing, the manipulative fool..."

Hedwig abandoned her perch and fluttered to a stop near Harry's out-flung arms. She nipped at his fingers until be began to stroke her smooth feathers with the work calloused digits. It served to calm them both down.

"Can you believe that he has forbidden me from being there when they read Sirius's will? Apparently I am the main beneficiary, and I can't even attend the memorial they have scheduled as soon as the ministry finalizes his death with no contestation. Apparently they aren't even clear on what, how, or if the Veil actually kills its victims or if it just takes them...somewhere else." Harry growled low in his throat as he thought about the unfairness of this decision. "Says that he'll accept the responsibility of claiming the inheritance on my behalf. Like he's doing me a bloody favor! Top that off with him telling me that I have to stay here till term begins, without the opportunity to take the Express to Hogwarts as it's "unsafe" for me. I have to be accompanied by a professor at all times. Merlin, its out of one prison and straight into another!"

Hedwig bobbed her head and made soothing noises in the back of her throat while she played with the loose folds on his oversized shirt. Harry seethed in silence for a long time, pausing only to remind himself that there had to be some way to get out from under Dumbledor's thumb.

* * *

Hedwig comforted her master till he fell into a fitful sleep, obviously still disturbed by the news sent by the Headmaster. Hedwig nudged Harry's arm off of her back and hopped awkwardly to the window. Grateful to find it open, she leapt from the sill and soared over the roof top, dipping her wing in greeting to the day and following her instincts on a course to the very object of her ire. 

Several hours later, something told her to coast right and she noticed the faint outline of the hidden shelter of the Most Noble Family of Black right were it always was. It figured that she would find her prey here of all places...

The window to the escaped hippogriff's room was open to allow for some ventilation on the hot summer days. She coasted in, ignoring the curious half-bird on principle and sought the quickest route down to the lower levels of the mansion. She found her entrance through a small window over the doorframe and levered herself carefully through it. Once inside, she followed the magical tug that told her that she was headed in the right direction and burst into the kitchen in a flurry of white feathers.

All of the humans looked up at her comically when she landed a bit less gracefully than normal in the middle of the diner table. She ignored the upset drinks and the spilled dishes with an aloof snobbishness only cats and owls possessed.

"Hedwig!" Hermione gasped out, immediately recognizing Harry's faithful bird. The Snowy owl didn't even look at her. She seemed to be glaring rather intensely at Professor Dumbledor.

"Oh dear!" Molly exclaimed, attempting to save the remains of the meal, though most had already finished eating.

"Do you have a message from Harry?" Ron asked the bird eagerly. He was ignored just as fully as Hermione had been.

Hedwig spread her wings in a threatening manner, opened her beak and hissed at the silver bearded man watching her with a startled look on his face. She screeched her displeasure at him loudly and continued to give him a piece of her mind until she ran out of energy. With a sharp bob of her head that everyone interpreted as the rude gesture it was meant to relay, she turned her back on the entire table and flew to the rafters where she let out an occasional loud hiss to remind them all that she was severally pissed.

"Great Merlin, Albus," Molly fanned her face. "That is one very unhappy owl. Whatever did you do to get her riled like that?"

Dumbledor shook himself from his light stupor and smiled reassuringly at the Weasley matriarch. "I merely informed Harry of a few additional precautions that will be taking effect this next term. I suppose that he did not take the news well."

"What did you do now?" Snape sighed from the other side of the table. He received a sharp warning glance from the Headmaster for his trouble and his natural scowl intensified.

Hermione and Ron shared a look. They had been aware that Harry and Professor Dumbledor had not parted on the best of terms two months past, but the never would have expected that animosity to spill over onto Hedwig, of all creatures. "Hedwig," Hermione called hesitantly to the irate bird. "Is Harry alright?"

Hedwig glared down at the bushy haired girl in silence. She wasn't here to exchange pleasantries, nor was she here to reassure these fools. Besides, she'd be lying if she implied that Harry was just fine. Really, this human was supposed to be smart. Hedwig huffed and let out another angry shriek when Dumbledor stood up.

"What additional precautions?" Remus's quiet voice drifted over the noise with little effort. The rough timber in the werewolf's tone was easily distinguished.

Dumbledor sighed and inclined his head. "Perhaps this can be discussed at the order meeting at the end of the week," he began as if he were graciously granting them some divine offering.

Remus narrowed his eyes at the older wizard and stood slowly, his chair scraping back across the floor with a loud rattle. "Perhaps," he agreed. "But as this involves Harry, and Sirius appointed me as his caretaker if anything should happen to him, I believe that I have a right to know now."

Snape shuddered at the dangerous warning hidden in those yellow beast eyes. Dumbledor was frowning at the werewolf, his own twinkling blue eyes fading a bit. "Remus, this is hardly the time..."

"I won't keep you for any longer than necessary," the wolf growled, unrelenting. Harry was the last of his pack and he would do anything for the boy.

Dumbledor heaved a put-upon sigh and gestured for the werewolf to follow him from the room and swept out the door in his usual dramatic fashion. The others watched them go, all curious for their own reasons about the conversation they were missing.

Another loud screech reminded them that Hedwig was still seething above them. Tonks tried to coax her down with the remains of Ron's dinner, but she continued to act as if they didn't exist. Molly tried to pretend that everything was fine and set about clearing up the trashed remains of supper.

"I've never seem Hedwig act like that," Hermione whispered. "Do you think that Harry is okay?"

She asked Ron.

"I'm sure he's fine, 'Mione. She's mad, not panicked. She wouldn't leave Harry if he was in trouble." Ron assured her.

Hermione searched his face and glanced worriedly at the white bird again before the door slammed open and Remus stalked back inside. He was followed by a slightly more ruffled looking Headmaster and everyone moved back to avoid being between the two of them.

"You knew, you knew how he would take that," Remus accused, collecting his coat from the back of his chair. "After leaving him to deal with his grief alone all summer, you-" Remus paused and shook his head. He slipped his arms into the sleeves of his light coat.

"It's for the best." Dumbledor frowned at he werewolf. "Where are you going, Remus?"

"Don't worry, Sir," Remus responded. "I won't be breaking any of your new rules. Since I am going to be teaching again this year, I fit your criteria for escorting Harry out of that muggle hell hole."

"That's a bit harsh," Dumbledor flinched at the wolf's low growl. "The Dursley's have always kept Harry safe enough in the past."

"Safe from what?" Hermione heard Remus mutter under his breath as he passed her. She watched with wide eyes as he glared at the leader of the light.

"And where will you take him?" Dumbledor persisted. "I doubt he will want to come back here so soon after Sirius's death."

Remus grinned without humor, more a showing of white teeth than a smile. "Oh, I'm sure we'll make do."

"Remus, I must insist-"

"Harry is going to be free of that place tonight, Albus. Work with me on this, or stay out of it completely." Remus snarled.

Several tense minutes passed in awkward silence before Dumbledor finally gave in to the werewolf while still placing his own restrictions on the decision. "Fine, Remus. But I insist that you remain with Harry at the Leaky Cauldron where there will be at least two other Order Members on guard at all times. It is for his safety as well as yours."

Remus considered his options before nodding once in agreement. "Molly, thank you for another wonderful dinner," he nodded to the red head as he bid them all goodbye. Hedwig finally came down from the rafters to perch on the werewolf's broad shoulders in approval. "I'll see you at the Order meeting," he added and paced from the room.

Hermione and Ron watched him go, still slightly bewildered at the randomness of this night's dinner.

"Professor," Ron finally chanced asking, "Does that mean that Harry isn't coming here?"

Dumbledor just sighed again and perched lightly on the edge of his own chair without answering. He completely missed the concerned looks shooting about the room between the other occupants.

Now he would have to wait and see how this developed, just like everyone else. Perhaps some plans needed to be pushed ahead of schedule. There was too much at stake to lose control of the game now...Dumbledor made his way to the floo and began his journey to Hogwarts, Snape on his heals, where he could continue his own plotting in the relative peace of his office.

* * *

A slight wind ruffled through the leaves and the tall grass, dancing through the long white fur of the newest resident of Private Drive. She sniffed the air, careful to remain out of sight, as the wards bent slightly as the same snowy owl as before swooped from the upstairs window. The midday sun glinted off of the white wings, reflecting brightly back upon the Earth. 

Fur as white as those feathers took that same light and swallowed it, as she tried to remain hidden in broad daylight. She had not moved far from her den in the grass, now bent under her weight, while testing her new bond with Harry.

She had only attempted to contact him once so far, when his magic had spiked with his emotions. The boy's sadness had washed her world grey and it had been near two days before color had returned to her vision. She had found that he was not yet responsive, or even aware of her, and she had settled for feeding him regular bits of her own magic to sustain him as he released his own into the atmosphere.

His growing wild magic still had no purpose, no direction, so she watched it gather in clumps inside the barrier. She thought about nudging the pockets of energy into doing something, but Harry's raw magic was still too unstable to play with.

The wards that she had spent endless hours picking apart were now back in place, but cast more firmly on this plane and with would release less backlash upon the fabric of this reality. The knot was gone and in its place a polished shield now stood. Not her best work, she snorted to herself, but better that it had been. The brightly colored glittering strands of wizards magic was now woven into a suitable tapestry that hung in the air. It no longer gave her a headache to look at it, which she was very grateful for.

A huge yawn revealed a mouth full of pointed fangs and her long pink tongue curled behind them. She flicked her pointed ears at the irritation of a buzzing fly and considered the state of her dignity if she were to lift her back leg and scratch behind her right ear. Every day had been like this. She had been camped here in this yard for a week with out so much as a second glimpse of the dark haired youth. Her napping was becoming tedious.

Just when she thought that it would remain another uneventful day, she felt an electric shock dance down the link between her and her charge. Her fur stood on end, making her appear at least three times larger that she actually was. Her connection told her that Harry was the source of this new vibration, or rather, his anger was fueling another massive leak of his wild magic. She whined softly, wondering if she should neutralize the boy's magic or simply let it settle on its own.

She watched the tendrils of magic intently as they sought out something to bond to, and settled back when they latched on to one of the overgrown flower beds. The plants withered and died in minutes, the stalks sinking to the earth where they lay in disarray. Apparently, Harry was feeling a bit destructive. She briefly considered reviving the blooms but decided that it wasn't worth her attention. She had other things to be thinking about.

If Harry's magic continued to fluctuate, it could damage him irreparably. She decided to keep a closer eye on her charge and set about strengthening their bond again. If her mistress had allowed it, she would have approached the boy by now. As it was, she was under orders to remain in the shadows until he approached her. Personally, she didn't see the difference, but it wasn't her job to question the Lady.

Turning her head to the north, she followed the snowy owl's flight path with her extended senses until the hour passed and she grew bored again. The boy was sleeping, the humans were entertaining themselves with the noisy picture box, the neighbor's collection of cats and kneazles had scattered into the wind when she had introduced herself, except for one, which was odd since most magical creatures generally liked her.

The remaining feline was a flat-faced orange ball of fuzz, more kneazle than cat, who seemed to be sent on the same job as she had. They exchanged general pleasantries before going back to their own brand of Harry watching. The occasional yawn or flick of the tail were the only things betraying their continued presence to the other.

A shimmer of light in the threads of magic alerted her to a change in the surroundings. The wards she had faugh to cleanse and straighten latched on to the lone wizard who was attempting to gain entrance to her charges territory, and set about judging him. Apparently the magic was satisfied because they fell away from his tall figure nearly as quickly as they had grasped on. Except for the brief pulling sensation that stepping through the wards caused, the man had felt nothing. If he had been here to harm Harry, he would already be dead. So her skills were still as sharp as ever, she congratulated herself and relaxed back onto the ground.

She placed her head back on her paws, stretching her legs both in front and behind when some other thing tickled her senses. With her head cocked to the side, she scented the air, and with a dogie grin, identified the wolf...

* * *

Well, there is chapter two. I hope you enjoyed it...please consider giving me any constructive feed back, as I have yet to find a beta to help me trudge through this. Any and all help is appreciated... 

Thanks

Hide-N-Seeker


	3. Lead On

I HAVE A BETA! AND SHE'S AWESOME! So, thanks go out to her for being willing to take on this project with me.

grins responses to the last chapter were so very appreciated. There were several good points brought up by reviews and I can only answer a few of those questions without actually giving away the story.

Though technically Dumbledor has no authority over Harry, his status and his position have given him the opportunities necessary to either influence or manipulate those that do have the authority to make decisions in his own favor. Dumbledor would have to do little to gain cooperation from the Dursley's as they would be too scared or too glad to be rid of Harry to actually care to contest any of the old wizard's requests (and I use that term lightly) in regards to Harry's life. As for Sirius's appointment of Remus and Harry's pseudo-caretaker, it is obviously a new development that Harry has yet to hear about. After the term ended, he was shipped off to Privet Drive and had very little meaningful contact with anyone.

As for the pairing, yes, it is a SLASH fic and it will be a Harry/Draco relationship. Give me time. I refuse to rush them into anything. I hate it when things move too fast for readers to actually get emotionally involved with the characters and their relationships. So I am still setting things up. Draco appears in Chapter four (actually the majority of the chapter is about Draco) and Harry and Draco should (if they stay on task without distracting me from the script) be meeting up in chapter five.

Other questions I can answer only if it doesn't ruin the story to do so.

hide-N-seeker

* * *

Chapter Three: Lead On 

Harry was vaguely aware of when Hedwig left but felt too tired to do more that squint one eye open long enough to watch her soar out the window. He knew that he shouldn't have been so tired. He hadn't actually done anything for the past few days to make him this exhausted other that muck about in the Pensieve. It was odd the way he felt as physically strained as he did emotionally. He hadn't felt like this since his Occlumency lessons with Snape. It was as if he was being drained, all his energy devoured by some nameless conflict within himself.

Drifting off in the middle of the day was something that he generally frowned upon, himself, probably a care-over from his work filled days through out his childhood. Harry had always been kept too busy to take advantage of something as elementary as a nap, and now that he was older, he couldn't seem to get past the feeling that he was wasting time if he wasn't doing something semi-productive.

It was a brief struggle, but his body's demand for rest overpowered the half-hearted protests of his mind. In mere minutes, Harry was soundly sleeping, the faint breeze coming through the window was the only thing stirring inside the room.

Like most dreams, Harry's started off nice enough, but it took very little time for his vulnerable mind to conjure the monsters he tried so hard to keep at bay in the daylight hours. After less than half hour's peaceful rest, Harry felt the nightmare seeping in. It was strange the way he was aware enough, even in his dreams, to recognize the warnings of coming nightmares. His dreams were odd like that. Sometimes it was as if he was a separate participant, other times, an observer, seeing through another's eyes.

This time, he was neither. Instead, Harry was something different.

Harry noticed the darkness seeping about the edges of the things, shadows cast from nothing taking shape. All too soon, a familiar room with throned seat and circles of black robed men and women flickered into being. It was Voldemort, of course, standing attendance over his grunts, and playing overlord.

It was an all to often seen vision, one that Harry was finding increasingly harder to ignore as they continued to happen. Though Voldemort had seemed to give up on invading Harry's dreams, there were still random moments when Harry was pulled from his own consciousness and into this place. He knew that it was the curse scar that connected them, knew that the link between them ran both ways. The difference was that Harry did not have enough control to direct or efficiently block out the connections when he wanted to. Luckily, the Dark Lord did not seem to notice when Harry was forced to witness these sessions of cruelty.

He was conscious of his role in this particular nightmare. He was not the object of attention, not under scrutiny from the snake-faced bastard or any of his henchmen. He was simply aware of his surroundings. He briefly wondered if this is what being a ghost was like. Flitting about the room, unobserved and uncontested was rather disturbing. He moved closer to the center, edging about the crouched and kneeling forms as if they might feel him had his invisible hands brushed against them. The very air around him was tainted, leaching stray particles of energy from anything near by. The towering figure of the Snake Lord was impressive to those that feared him, which was almost everyone. A round of screams rang though his ears, and Harry noticed the shivers of several of the dark cloaked figures around him. Either they were enjoying listening to someone else's torture, or were disgusted by it. Harry couldn't really tell, since the white masks did their job and effectively hid the faces of the surrounding bodies. There were only a few of the Death Eaters brave enough, or stupid enough to remain uncovered, even in their master's hall. After all, Harry knew, there were spies. They couldn't be _that_ confident, could they?

A glint of silver flashed behind the shapeless masses of black cloaks, and Harry focused on it quick as if the snitch had buzzed by his ear. The light shifted, showing the movement of something pale and ghostly pacing about the edges of the ring of bodies. Harry narrowed his green eyes and waited for it to come into view. There...a white dog...

A pointed muzzle, wolflike and deadly fanged lifted and eyes, red as wine, pierced through him. What ever this thing was, it could _see_ him when no one else could. Harry shuddered when the barred teeth of the animal flashed in the light. He had never seen a dog this big, its large body, still slim and proportioned to its excessive height. It made Sirius's Grim form look like a puppy had it ever been possible to place them side by side. Harry guessed that the animal's head would have stood even with his own, placing those teeth way too close to his neck for comfort. Those red eyes were nothing like Voldemort's. The Dark Lord's were wild, the color of blood and death. These were deep and shadowed with burgundy and intense violet centers. There was no pupil, slit or otherwise, to break that reflective surface either. They were, for lack of a better word, beautiful.

The creature tipped its head to the side and Harry swore that he saw the dog wink at him. Both boy and dog turned back to the scene when the screams reached a higher pitch.

Close enough now to see, Harry was surprised to find it was Wormtail withering about under Bellatrix Lestrange's curse. That explained why he was here pain free. It was only when Voldemort was the one casting the curses that Harry was effected by them. As long as it was Bellatrix behind the wand, Harry was free of pain. Harry watched as she spat out the pain curse again, giggling when the rat was unable to scream anymore.

"Enough," a gravelly voice, seldom used, hissed.

Bellatrix reluctantly lifted the curse, but not her sneer as Pettigrew twitched at their feet.

"Something has gotten past my wards," their master hissed to the collected Death Eaters, looking thoughtfully into the distance. "Find it."

Harry felt his heart stop for a moment, thinking that he must have been discovered when a feminine voice spoke out.

"That won't be necessary," it said, everyone's head turning collectively to find the owner of the voice.

From the shadows, the white dog glided out, seemingly from no where, its head and tail held proudly. Its white fur shimmered now, glowing in the pale light, its red eyes fixed on Voldemort. It was amazing how it seemed to grow even bigger, as Harry watched. Its pointed ears twisted straight forward and it towered over even the tallest of the Death Eaters.

"Merlin..." One of the Death Eaters whispered and stumbled back to his knees.

Several whimpers from the less composed escaped their lips and the dog drew its lips back over those wicked fangs in a grin. Before their eyes, the dog balanced itself on its hind legs, feet spread and arms loose at her side as they lengthened and changed form into the body of a woman just as flawless as her animal form, though there were some differences. Her pointed ears still sat atop her head, swiveling to catch the random sounds in the room, and her eyes remained that unnerving liquid red. The nails on her hands and bare feet were black and curved like claws. Harry had no doubt that they were probably just as sharp. Her tail was still long and plumed, the white fur glistening with its own light from where it emerged from under short white robes.

"Ah," Voldemort smirked at the proud beast. "I wondered when I would see you again. It is near time to renew our alliance, is it not?"

The pointed ears and red eyes followed the Dark Lord as he moved nearer. The human like face was set in an impassive display of one completely unimpressed. "I come with a warning," she barked out instead. "You tread dangerously close to breaking your oath, wizard."

Voldemort's smile faded, his own pointed teeth hidden once more behind his thin lips.

"You would dare-" Bellatrix snapped only to be silenced by her lord.

"Be silent," he hissed. "I will deal with you later." He faced the anthropomorphic figure again and clutched his wand in his hand. "I am not aware of any transgressions on our agreement."

A slight silence descended as the two pairs of red eyes sized each other up. Every other pair of eyes in the room swung back and forth between the two bodies, wondering what alliance and what agreement. None of the Death Eater's present had ever seen a creature like this one, and if they had, they would have remembered. Many of the group looked again, this time assessing the strengths that the creature in front of them could offer if it was indeed an ally.

It was the woman who spoke out, but her words were far from submissive.

"Now I make you aware," she snarled, the canine face contorting in a sharp fanged display. "If you make any more moves against ours, we shall know it. We owe you no allegiance. And should you disregard this warning," she continued, "you will regret it."

"Your people are not my target," the Dark Lord consented, refusing to allow himself to be intimidated.

"We shall see, Riddle."

Voldemort scowled at the use of that name but only nodded in response as the creature flowed back into its four legged form and melted into the night.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of this dream. He had never heard of any such creature, nor had he been able to decipher what they had been talking about. What ever it was, it seemed important. Voldemort did not so much as sneer at the woman when she made her own displeasure known. He hoped that he would remember enough of this to tell the Order when he woke. There was something big buried in those few words, something that might be enough to turn their fortune, though for good or ill, he did not know.

* * *

Remus stalked down Privet Drive, making no attempt to hide himself or his anger as he passed the identical houses one by one. He knew he was close to Harry when the wards around the house sent a warning through his own magic. In seconds, he was through, and scanning his surroundings for the green-eyed teenager.

The air was full of summer smells of dirt and growth and heat. The tang of sweat hung about the ground where even the grass suffered the heat. He felt the wolf inside of him press for dominance, and he fought it back again, his eyes flashing golden for a moment. It was his mind, his body, and he would never willingly give into the curse when he still had strength in his body and magic to fight it.

The wolf fought back, like it always did. Their battle brief but taxing, leaving both angry and tired. His pause on the edges of the property were noted by one curious set of liquid red eyes. She could see the two souls in that body clashing and wondered what the wolf-man was thinking. She considered trotting over to ask, but he was too preoccupied to even notice her presence. She watched him as he continued to the house and listened shamelessly as he demanded to see her charge.

She perked up at the thought of seeing the green eyed youth up close and her tail thumped against the ground in reaction. She had been waiting for this moment since her arrival. With a pleased grunt, she stretched and stood, flexing her sleeping muscles. She nodded once to the orange kneazle and stalked closer to the entrance that the wolf had used, assuming it would also serve as the exit.

The husks of flowers were crushed under her paws as she sidled up to the window before bracing herself on the sill. The glass was raised to allow the non-existent breeze to cool the occupants. She pressed her nose to the thin mesh restricting the insects from invading. Inside, she could smell the decay of mortal beings and the fresher, more natural scent of her charge. The tiniest hint of fowl, probably from the white owl, and the wolf's forest scent were the newest smells in the house.

Parallel to her sense of smell was her acute hearing. It was refined enough to pick out the lightest hint of stirring if so much as a mouse had run across the floor. However, at this moment, there was no need to put any effort into listening in on the conversations going on inside the building. If fact, she wouldn't be surprised if her pack sister could hear this from where she was finishing up her own mission many kilometers away to the north.

She pinned her ears back in hopes of muffling the yelling, but it was ineffective. The wolf's scent spiked as the man grew angrier, his words grew in volume as he yelled. She attempted to focus on the actual words rather than their loudness. She caught most of the larger man's reply.

"-kind are not welcome here!"

"I have every right to check up on Harry. You will not deny me admittance to see my last pack mate!"

"Pack mate?" Vernon Dursley blustered. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're that werewolf!" Petunia shrieked, pointing a bony finger at Remus.

The wolf growled in satisfaction. "I am," he agreed. "And I want to see Harry. Now."

The family huddled together around the livingroom couch, each trying to be the one furthest away from the wizard. It was comical to see the thin frame of Petunia acting as barrier between Remus Lupin and the two whales she called family.

"Upstairs," she bit out, still pointing as if she could ward him away with a wave of her finger.

Remus nodded to her, refusing to be part of the rudeness that these muggles were displaying. He strutted up the steps, following his own sense of smell to the door he recognized as Harry's. The locks were still there, hanging uselessly from the sides of the frame.

He knocked once, allowing the teenager enough time to respond before attempting to turn the knob. "Harry?" he called out when the boy did not answer. He pushed the door open carefully with his foot and stood to the side before cautiously peering around the wall and into the tiny room. "Harry?" he tried again.

He was pleased to note that Harry Potter was indeed there. He just happened to be sleeping rather deeply. He strode over to the bed and leaned over to lightly shake the teen's shoulder. "Harry, wake up."

Harry roused from his dreams, blinking up at the familiar visage of the last Marauder. He focused as best he could before reaching above his head to find where his glasses had fallen. "Professor Lupin?" he asked the blur with a frown. "What are you doing here? Am I in trouble again?"

Remus stared at the rumpled figure strangely. "Not that I know of," he told the sleepy boy. "Should you be?"

Harry snorted. "Well, most people have to _do _something before they can get in trouble for it. But then again, the things that seem to happen to me are usually not my fault."

"Funny, that's what your dad used to say," Remus responded with a eye-catching grin. "He was lying, of course."

Harry smiled back and swung his long legs off the bed. "So what brings you here?" he asked, giving a little bounce that set the mattress springs squeaking. "The Pensieve," he hesitated, "it's mine to keep, isn't it?"

"Of course it is. That was your birthday present, Harry. It is yours to empty, or add to, as you see fit." Remus ran a gentle hand through Harry's thoroughly mussed hair. "Did you like it?"

"It was the best thing that any of you could have given me." Harry told him quietly. "It really helped, Professor. Thank you, you know, for everything."

He cleared his throat, mindful of the tension still lingering on between himself and Harry. Or perhaps, more truthfully between Harry and everyone else. The events of his life had left the young man little reason to keep faith in the adults in his life much less his fellow peers. He had been dealt the short hand time and again, and had only survived to gamble what was left of his happiness by sheer luck. He sighed and sat down beside the boy, feeling his weight dip the bed ominously.

"Harry, would you like to get out of here?"

"Away from the Dursley's?" Harry interrupted, the melancholy atmosphere dissipating suddenly.

"Hell yeah! What are my options?"

Remus smirked and shook his head at the antics. "You have two options. You can go and stay at Grimmauld place with the Weasley's...or you can come to the Leaky Cauldron with me."

"What about Dumbledore?" Harry interrupted again. "He told me that I was not allowed to leave the house unless I was escorted by a professor."

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Remus chastised. "And I will be returning to the Defense Against the Dark Arts post as of September First."

Harry beamed at the werewolf. "Brilliant!"

Remus watched those vibrant green eyes skip about the room while Harry thought through the offer. He was not surprised to see the teen putting such care into his choices. The poor boy had few opportunities for freedom and the restrictions on his activities were far more than Remus had dared to believe. The locks on the door were not just for show.

"Does that mean that it would just be you and me?" Harry hesitated in asking. "No offense, but aren't you too busy to be babysitting me for the rest of the summer?"

"I would like nothing more than to spend some time with you, Harry, but I understand if you prefer the company of your friends."

"I think..I would rather go with you, Professor. If you'll have me." Harry announced decisively.

"In that case," Remus pulled out his wand, "Let's get you packed."

The pointed nose fell back from the window and all four paws again touched ground. So they were leaving. That was both good and bad news. Good because she got a change of scenery and some exercise, and bad because she would have to reestablish her wards around the boy all over again once they reached their destination. She just hoped that he would hold still long enough for her to work.

She watched her charge leaving the house with the wolf-man and sent a doggie grin at them. They disappeared into the air as soon as they stepped though the wards and she followed her bond with the boy to where they landed so that she was certain of where to find him. She was suspicious that the young dark-haired youth had taken a second look her direction, but also knew that she was adequately shielded from prying eyes. Of course, being of the blood, if he had truly known what to look for, no amount of glamours would have hidden her from his eyes.

She pranced over to her former spot and erased any trace of her stay before carefully un-weaving her spells. She had no desire to return later and find that the magic had returned to its wild state and "influenced" the surroundings in odd ways. With out her guidance, who knows what the strands of energy would attach to...

She shifted her form to something smaller, forcing her body to a more compact animal and sealing her glow away so that she wouldn't be noticed as easily as she hopped through the fabric of space to reach her charge. There were things on that level existence that would have no difficulty in smashing her flat if they so chose. It was better to go unnoticed. She gave the residence of Privet Drive one last look before fading away.

* * *

Harry clutched at the nearest stable body when Lupin apperated them directly to Diagon Alley. He glanced around, not surprised to find that it had not changed a bit since he had last seen it. Random witches and wizards wandered from store to store, calling out to familiar faces and spending money on all sorts of magical items.

Professor Lupin led them into the Leaky Cauldron where he secured two rooms for the remainder of the summer. Harry noticed Tonks, her hair a strange shade of green, and Fletcher in the corner, trying to act as if no one could see them. Harry smirked and waved, catching the pair by surprise. Tonks waved back before she noticed her blunder.

A hand at his shoulder pulled his gaze back up to the werewolf.

"I am sorry about that, Harry. Headmaster Dumbledore insisted that they be present."

Harry shrugged that off. "I expected it, actually. I'm not allowed to sneeze without Dumbledore approving it first."

"Harry..." Remus frowned.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" Harry interrupted his professor before he could begin to lecture him. "Somewhere more...public? And not covered in surveillance charms?" Harry said the last part under his breath but knew by the look on Lupin's face that he had heard him. He pleaded with his eyes. "Please, professor? I do need to talk to you."

Lupin nodded. He led Harry back out into the alley and ushered him away from the inn. "Harry, why so you think that there are surveillance charms at the Cauldron?"

"He's probably looking for something else to hold over my head," Harry sneered. He didn't notice the concerned look that Lupin gave him. "Anything he can use to control me...did you really think that Dumbledore would be content with just those two spying on me?"

"Dumbledore!" Lupin exclaimed. "Harry, the Headmaster only wants to make sure that you are safe-"

"-yeah, I know. He needs me for this war. I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were!" Lupin said and pulled Harry toward the more populated side of the Alley. "Harry, what's going on? Why are you being so hostile toward the Headmaster?"

"Not here," Harry sighed and pointed toward one of the shops. "Would you like some ice cream? My treat?"

Lupin studied the brooding teenager carefully before agreeing to the sweet. Somehow, he was missing several pieces to the puzzle and frankly, he was disturbed by the depths of the anger that Harry was displaying. This was not the laughing, good natured boy he had seen last. If this was the result of Dumbledore's protection, then Remus had some questions of his own.

They entered the shop, where they took an obscene amount of time choosing from the hundreds of flavors before taking the frozen desert to a booth in the back. Harry seemed more interested in playing with his spoon than eating his double scoop sundae, so Remus took the initiative.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"Profess-"

"Call me Remus, Harry. I haven't been your professor for several years now. When we get back to school, you'll have to call me professor, but until then, there is no need to be so formal."

"Remus, then," Harry agreed with a small grin. "I was wondering..." Harry found it more difficult that he had expected to begin his questioning of the werewolf.

"Harry, you know that you can ask me anything." Remus attempted to reassure the withdrawn teen.

He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Right. I was wondering about my Mum."

Remus was taken aback by the bluntness of the unexpected topic and by the unconscious gesture so reminiscent of James that he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts before replying. "What about your mother?" he asked carefully.

"Well, can you tell me about her?" Harry lifted pleading green eyes to the dazed wolf.

"I can do that," Remus nodded slowly. "What would you like to know?"

"Everything! Anything!" was the teen's immediate response.

Remus Lupin sat back in his chair and frowned. He couldn't help but wonder why Harry would seem to be so starved for information about his mother after all this time. Surely his aunt had provided that connection to Lily, hadn't she? Suddenly, Remus wasn't so sure that Petunia Dursley had provided anything at all to Harry.

"I just," Harry attempted to explain, "I don't know anything about her. "S-" Harry choked but pushed himself on , "Sirius knew many stories about my Dad, and the marauders. They still talk about him at school some. But my only memory of my mother is from the night she died. I just," Harry lifted his empty hands to emphasize his point, "I need more than that."

The werewolf sat quietly for several more minutes and thought about what Harry had said. He was aware of the nervous tension in the young man across from him and the hesitant flicker of emotion in those green eyes. Taking a chance, Remus leaned back in his chair as to appear less threatening and met those verdant eyes. "There is something else bothering you. I can tell." Remus took a deep breath before jumping straight into what he wanted to say. "I know that I'm not Sirius...or your parent, but I would like to believe that I am your friend."

He watched the werewolf's hands clench around the melting dish of ice cream. It seemed that even after all this time, Remus Lupin was still dealing with the results of years of rejection by the majority of the world he was born into. He was still worried that Harry would reject him. Harry had some abandonment issues of his own and took the chance to reach across the table and place his smaller hand over Remus'.

Slowly he found his reply. "I know you aren't my Godfather, but I wouldn't want you to be. Right now, a friend is exactly what I need. A friend I can trust..."

Remus felt his face split into a grin that lit up his face.

"Remus, I need your word that anything I tell you, will be between us. No telling Dumbledore.."

"Harry, what happened between you and Dumbledore last year?" Remus asked, his concern apparent.

"Before I answer that, I need and honest answer from you." Harry waited for Remus to nod. "Did you know about the prophecy?"

Remus blinked in response and moved closer to the closest person to family he had left. "Perhaps you better start at the beginning. I don't know anything about a prophecy."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." Harry told the werewolf to cast some charms to keep them from being overheard and waited for him to finish before he continued. "Before I was born, there was a prophecy...basically, it is the reason that I am still alive, and everyone else is dead."

"Harry," Remus chastised again. "You had better explain."

"Just listen," Harry sighed.

Remus paled as Harry recited the words in a whisper, not totally trusting the spells around them. "Dear Merlin. Harry, who knows about this?"

Harry looked Remus straight in the eye. " More people that I would like, including Voldemort. But as to who knows what the prophecy actually says...you, me, and Dumbledore."

"Albus knew?" Remus growled. "For how long?"

"He was there when the prophecy was made."

"And when did you learn of it?"

"The day Sirius died..."

"Oh, Merlin...Harry, I'm sorry. Albus never told me. He never told any of us." For a few moments he was lost in thought. "He never intended to either, did he?"

"Probably not," Harry agreed darkly. "There is more. Other things that he has done. Dumbledore is a good man, I know, but he's blinded by the very light he serves."

Both men stared down at their ruined ice cream, not able to care about it. They were both far away, lost in their thoughts and memories. Harry came back to reality when the man across from him clenched his fingers into fists and the metal spoon bent in his hand. He considered distracting the wolf from his apparent anger and returned to the topic he was originally interested in. "Remus, what do you know about my mother's family?"

"Only that Lily was muggleborn and that her parents were very excited when she graduated from Hogwarts. That was the only time I met them. They came to the ceremony along with most of the other parents. They were very kind..."

"You met my grandparents?" Harry asked surprised. "Do you remember their names?"

"Their names? Harry? Don't you-"

"No. I don't. I don't know _anything!_ Don't you see, Remus? Everything has been kept from me. Everything that matters. My family, my history, the world I was born into, the truth, my friends when I needed them most," Harry exclaimed bitterly. "But now, I want to know about those things. I have reason to believe that there was more to my mother than any of you knew, and now, you can help me...tell me about Lily Evans...before she became Lily Potter."

"I'll tell you everything I know," Remus promised.

For the first time that day, Harry smiled, really smiled. Remus found that he was glad to be the one to get a glimpse of the bright-eyed youth that Harry had never really gotten a chance to be.

* * *

Please Review. Please?

hide-N-seeker


	4. In the Blood

Apparently no one shared my excitement for the third chapter...I only received one review and that was from my Beta...I must not be doing as well as I thought I was with this story. Well, regardless, here is chapter four. I hope _someone _enjoys it.

Hide-N-Seeker

* * *

Chapter four: In the Blood 

There were several unbreakable rules to being a Malfoy that Draco would rather die than forget. The first of which was to always remember that you _were _a Malfoy and must always act accordingly. This was the only thing keeping him from wrinkling his nose in distaste.

It wasn't just the smell, or the layer of grime permanently stuck to everything, though those were reason enough to cause the fastidious blond to step with extreme caution through the narrow halls. No, it was the ragged pitiful moans of despair that disgusted him most. Azkaban was packed with criminals who were still traumatized by the defected prison guards. Honestly, Draco couldn't find an ounce of pity for the pathetic remains of once noble men and women who sold their lives to the Dark Lord long ago. Any pureblood should know better than to lower themselves to what these honor less idiots had done by allying themselves to an even bigger idiot.

And yes, Draco did include his own father in that category. Lucius Malfoy had his son's loyalty and his love, but he had lost his respect the moment he had been caught in the Department of Mysteries. He was just relieved that with the dementor's gone, at least this meeting with his father would be sane.

"This way," the guard leading him through the labyrinth of halls gestured toward a heavy looking metal door. A cracked sign above the frame read Tier Fourteen. Draco raised one pale eyebrow and considered the numerous stair cases he had been forced to tread since his arrival. He would have sworn that there were at least fifty of the blasted things. The guard shoved the door open with his foot and hollered out "Malfoy! You got yo'self a vis'tor!"

Draco cringed and listened to the screeching echo fade off in the distance. A moment of silence followed the yell before the prisoners behind them took up wailing and screaming in response. He was glad when the door swung shut behind them and the cacophony of voices was reduced to a mere whisper.

"Malfoy!" the guard yelled out again.

Draco glared at the back of the man's head and thought about reprimanding the fool for disabusing _his _name in such a way. When he opened his mouth to do just that, his fathers voice did it for him.

"Must you display your poor manners so openly," Lucius addressed the guard lazily and then as an after though added, "sir?"

"Shuddup," the guard grinned, showing off several yellowed teeth and a few gaps where others had fallen out. "Pretty Boy here came to see you."

Draco almost chocked on his next breath and adopted an offended expression when this _thing_ dared to address him so. This time, he let his perfect nose wrinkle and his mouth turn down at the corners in visual manifestation of his disgust.

"Draco?" his fathers voice sounded much less sarcastic now and more hopeful than Draco could ever recall having heard before. With his frown still in place, Draco strode down the hall until he could peer into the closest rooms. He found Jugson, Dolohov, Nott and Avery before he found the familiar liquid grey eyes he had inherited.

Draco stared at the rumpled figure of his father in silence. There was a time that Lucius Malfoy would have never been seen in any state less than perfection. Circumstances seem to have take the elder Malfoy at a disadvantage. Without that mantle of aristocratic perfection cloaking him, Lucius looked nothing like the man that Draco had striven so hard to emulate.

"Father," Draco quietly greeted the man standing before him.

Lucius Malfoy flinched visibly, something that Draco had never seen him do, and then a pale dirt smudged hand lifted to wrap around the bars of the cell.

Draco knew that more than the thick bars stood between him and his sire.

"Draco," Lucius whispered back and moved as close to his son the cell would allow. "You came to see me."

"You _did_ request my presence," Draco responded.

A small smirk lifted the corners of the elder Malfoy's mouth as he took in the cool attitude of his only child. "I did," he acknowledged.

Draco decided to let his father say what he wanted before he had his own say. He had several things to tell the older man. Things that he was sure that other wouldn't like.

Lucius Malfoy reached one slender hand through the bars on his cell and touched the immaculate folds of Draco's robes. The high quality fabric was cool against his skin and remained clean as he clenched the cloth in his fist. Slowly, as to keep the hovering guard away, he drew his son closer to him. "We must speak."

"I gathered that," Draco brushed his fathers weak grasp off and scowled at the wrinkles now twisted in the fabric.

"My trial is tomorrow." Lucius began.

Draco clenched his own fingers into fists and resisted the urge to hang his head and stare at his feet rather that face his father with his own disappointment clear for the elder to see. After a subtly hidden deep breath, he forcefully met those familiar silver eyes and flinched. He had never expected to see Lucius Malfoy looking defeated, but sure as he was standing in Azkaban, he father looked beaten.

He shook his head at the thought and licked his suddenly dry lips before croaking out the appropriate, "So soon?" that was expected of him. They both knew what day it was and had been thinking of little else since the capture.

"We knew this was going to happen someday, son. It was inevitable. I had hoped...but that is no matter. Draco, I asked you here today because there is something that I must have you do."

Draco visibly winced and stepped back from the bars of his father's cell. He had know that this was coming and thought that he had been prepared for it. He felt his stomach churning as he fought to regain control of his nervous responses. "I can not help you escape, father. As much as I want you home, I can't."

Lucius swallowed and grabbed his son's robe again. "I would not ask that of you. Not of you."

The intensity of those silver eyes made them seem to glow in the weak light of the prison ward while Draco tried to grasp what his father was saying.

While he might have shared some of the opinions as his father concerning muggles and muggleborns, Draco was not so immersed in the bigotry to lose all sense of reality. Allying himself with Voldemort was no more than suicide. And Draco had no wish to die.

Draco had been dreading the conversation that he knew had to happen some day about his own allegiances. The younger Malfoy just could not see himself bowing down and serving the ugly creature that had ruled the later years of his fathers life. He had been there when his father would return to the manor in need of medical attention and struggling to do something as simple as breathe on his own.

Several weeks into the winter holidays Draco had been the only one home when his father had stumbled in from one of their "meetings" and started to vomit blood all over the marble floor. He could still see the weak, red tinted grin of greeting his father had given him before passing out and Draco had begun yelling for the closest house elf. Until that time, he had managed to convince himself that what his father was fighting for was worth a little bit of suffering. If a few rounds of crucio would help win them this war...but as time wore on, Draco was beginning to grow up enough to see the extent of Voldemort's madness and realize that he wanted no part of it. That brought him back to his father's strange behavior.

"Draco, you must swear to me, swear on your own magic, that you will _not _allow that monster to mark you." Lucius urgently shook his son's shoulder as he spoke. "Draco, on your _magic," _Lucius hissed.

"W-what?" Draco stammered. He had never expected such words to fall from his father's mouth.

"On your _magic, _Draco." Lucius demanded.

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. His father wanted to him to swear an oath so powerful that to break it, it would reduce him and any of his line to squibs; a fate many purebloods viewed as worse that death. He searched the tired lines on his father's face and found that last bit of familiar intensity reserved for him in those eyes. "I swear it, father. I shall never take the Dark Mark, nor ever serve its maker."

A tingle of magic coursed through his blood as the vow took effect and Draco shivered at the sensation. He stared hard at his sire and watched in concern as the older blond slumped against the bars in relief and satisfaction. "Father?" he called softly. "Why?"

"I would never force you to follow that _thing _the way I have been forced to do."

"Forced? But you-"

Lucius frowned at his son until he regained his composure and answered, "Yes. Your grandfather was not a very caring individual. But he did believe in the cause, as do I. The difference is that, given the choice, I would not have chosen that psychopath to lead us toward a better world."

"But," Draco struggled to understand, "why did you stay, then?"

Lucius tapped his arm the where the darkened flesh of the dark mark burned still on his skin. I gave a blood promise to serve him, Draco. I can not do otherwise without losing my life..."

Draco leaned against the cold iron of the bars and touched the warm hand Lucius held out to him. "Does mother know?"

"I could never have kept this from her. She knows. She knew before she married me."

"I don't understand," Draco whispered unhappily. He felt all he had known slipping from him until he was lost and alone, and for the first time, free.

"I was marked over seventeen years ago, Draco. Do you know what the Dark Mark is? What it does? I made that blood pact to protect you. The price for my service, Draco, was you and your mother. I would do all I could to further his cause...in exchange for your lives."

Draco stared at his father in growing horror. He had never expected this. There had never been even the smallest of hints to show that his father had not been acting on his own ideals. There had been no indication that Lucius Malfoy was anything but the most loyal of Death Eaters. But then, slytherins were known for their masks.

"Your mother knows, she will explain this to you later." Draco nodded dumbly and wrapped his arms around his body to ward off the sudden chill he felt. He had come prepared to argue about his decision to refuse the dark mark only to be told to swear an oath not to take it. He had arrived expecting to have to crush his father's perception of him when he informed him that he could not help him escape, only to find that it had never been expected of him to begin with. He had come here, knowing that this could be the last time he would see his father and that it would not be on good terms when they parted, only to find that his father was staring at him with more pride in he eyes than he had ever shown his heir before. Draco didn't know what to say, so he continued to nod mindlessly.

"One other thing, my son." Lucius interrupted him, "You must marry, as soon as you can, and procure an heir of your own."

Draco blinked and stared. The surreal quality to this day growing by the minute. "Marry!" he cried and knew that his jaw had dropped open.

"Indeed," the older blond affirmed, sounding much more like his old self.

"B-but, why!" Draco asked.

Lucius Malfoy frowned at younger, more feminine version of himself. "The Malfoy name must continue, my son. You are of a suitable age to find a spouse and produce the next in our line. When I am gone, it falls to you to make sure that our heritage in not lost. You will have a year to get used to the idea," he informed the gaping teen.

"A year?" Draco squeaked. "But _who _would I marry? You haven't betrothed me to some random pureblood brood mare, have you! Please tell me it's not Parkinson! I will not settle for some-"

"A Malfoy does not 'settle,' " Lucius cut off his son's rant before he could say more. "We take only the best. I expect you to find your spouse the same way that I had and my father before me. All you will be responsible for is the actual marriage and the conception of a child, which I have no doubt will be a simple enough task for you. " Lucius smirked. "Your match will be chosen the same way that all Malfoy's find their intended. Our House Guardian is responsible for finding your perfect match."

Draco blushed at his father's reference to his reputation for meaningless relationships. He had been rather lax in hiding his numerous flings. As for the idea of marriage at the age of seventeen,

Draco knew that he should be protesting vehemently, but either he was too stunned by recent events to respond correctly, or he was simply having some strange kind of nightmare where he had lost all grip of his own reality. As far as he knew, there was no particular family guardian, unless you counted several of the ancient ghosts of past family members that still kept watch over their descendants. With all of these thoughts running through his head, Draco convinced himself that he should be glad to know that still had the presence of mind to ask, "Guardian?"

"Listen carefully, my son." Lucius nodded to the younger, "You must find my cane. It was taken from me when I arrived here."

"It was delivered to the manor," Draco replied absently but found himself dragged back to reality when his fathers face brightened considerably at the news.

"Excellent. That is very good to know. Find it, and Draco, at your first opportunity, you must recite the spell that will awaken the spirit that sleeps there."

"In your cane?" Draco asked.

"For now, yes. Listen, the incantation is _'Minuo' _. When you are alone, hold the cane and repeat what I have just told you. There will be no need for your wand. The Guardian has his own kind of magic. Then you must say '_Reus Per Cruor_' It will then begin to search for your perfect match."

"Perfect match? Father, what are you-"

Lucius cut him off again and continued his explanation. "The Guardian was created centuries ago for just this purpose. It knows our family, knows you, and will only choose the best to stand at your side."

"The best what, father? What about age? Bloodlines?-"

"Gender?" Lucius smirked at his son when the younger blond waved that off and ignored the raised eyebrows this caused. He had known that his son was rather like him in the sense that he had an appreciation for beauty regardless of sex. That just meant that there were more candidates to choose from when it was time to search for his partner. "Like I said before, my son, it will find _your _perfect match, so any restrictions will be defined be you alone."

"So, what? I just tell this guardian what I like and then it just trots off and bonds me to some unsuspecting person?" Draco asked wide eyed.

"Basically, except you don't tell it anything. It will know all about you through your blood bond with it, which it will then transfer to your chosen mate."

"A blood bond? But that is illegal."

Lucius gave his son a bland look.

"Right, right. But it _is _dark magic. With the pressure of the ministry pinning us down, it will be detected the moment I try to wake this Guardian. I have no desire to make a more permanent trip to this awful place."

"As long as you give your blood willingly, it is undetectable, Draco."

"You are certain?"

"I have never lied to you."

"And prior allegiances?"

"Again, the restrictions placed on your chosen are made by you. If you truly have a problem being bonded to someone with certain ties, the Guardian will be aware of it. Do not worry, Draco. There has never been a bad match in all of our family history."

Draco allowed himself a few moments for this news to sink in before agreeing to it. "I will do as you ask, Father."

"There is one other thing that I must tell you. Tomorrow at the trial," Lucius pointed out, "I do not want you to be there."

"But-" Draco protested.

"You will not come to the trial. This is my last request of you. Stay away, Draco. I t will not be safe." Lucius took to looking across the hall into the cell opposite him where the other Death Eaters were pressed against their own doors trying to listen in.

"Dumbledore and his puppets wouldn't dare to harm-" Draco attempted to persuade his father to change his mind.

"You will do as you are told!" Lucius ordered. "It is not Dumbledore or the Ministry that concerns me."

The pale face lost any remnants of color. "Father, what are you planning?"

"Keep you mother safe, my son. And remember, Malfoy's only accept the best, Draco. Only the best." Lucius loosened his grip on the bars and backed away. "Guard, we are finished here."

"Father!" Draco protested. It was too soon. He wouldn't ever see him again. It was too soon for him to go. There was still more to say. "Wait! Father!"

"Go home, Draco. You have made me very proud of you this day."

"But-"

"Go home."

Draco found himself dragged backwards from his father's prison and struggled against the magic that the guard was using to forcibly remove him. He gave the haunted silver eyes of his sire one last sad look before he was pulled out the door and once again faced with the broken remains of witches and wizards lost in their own personal hell. Only this time, he did not feel like sneering at their misery.

* * *

Harry searched his room at the Leaky Cauldron carefully. There were no suspicious articles lying about, but Harry knew that Dumbledore was smarter than that. All of the surveillance charms would be on items that were not removable from the room. Harry glared at the mirror on the wall where it was humming happily to itself. Without the use of magic, he was forced to live with the invasion into his privacy, though he was not certain to what extent the old fool was willing to go. At this point, Harry wouldn't put anything past him.

He pealed back the covers on the bed and readied himself for bed. It had been a long and eventful day. Even with the nap he had before leaving Privet Drive, he found himself tired and weak. Yawning widely, he tucked himself into a ball with his knees close to his chest and buried his face in the soft feather pillow. He would just have to be very careful about what he said while in the building. Too many ears spying on him and too few friends that he could count on to stand by his side.

It was coming down to a choice between Harry and Dumbledore. And it was a split in the forces of light that Harry was dreading. Somehow, he could not find anyway around it though. It was either divide himself from the meddling fool, or give himself over as no more than a puppet, a tool of war.

He sighed and forced himself to close his eyes, even though sleep would be long in coming. At least now, he had Remus. At least now, he wasn't so totally alone.

He was just drifting off when he heard a knock on his door. Harry bolted upright and stared at the wooden barrier, wondering who would be trying to reach him at this time. Cautiously, he slipped from under the warm covers and crept over to the frame. He clutched his ever present wand in his right hand and pressed himself flat against the wall near the door.

"Who is it?" he finally called.

"It's Remus," the werewolf announced.

"Prove it," Harry shot back and waited.

"Padfoot and Prongs would be very proud of you, Harry. You are certainly taking no chances..." Remus chuckled out.

Harry backed up a step and called out again. "Open the door very slowly and step in." He watched as the door swung open and the tattered cloak the werewolf always wore came into view.

"Good enough?" Remus asked with great humor.

"Good enough," Harry grinned at his friend. "What are you doing here so late?"

Remus motioned for them to move further into the room and closed the door behind him. Harry perched on the bed, seeking the warmth that he had left behind, while Remus took the hard straight backed desk chair.

"I've been called away." Remus told the young man straight out. "The Order needs me to go look into something."

"It hasn't even been twenty four hours!" Harry protested.

"I know, and I'm sorry," Remus lifted his hands apologetically.

"That old fool doesn't like the fact that I talked to you where he couldn't hear us." Harry did a fine impression of the wolf with his growl of anger.

"I hardly think that things are as bad as all that," Remus tried to comfort the boy. Harry was having no part in that though. He gestured at his friend to cast the detections spell and find what charms were present since he could not.

Remus was surprised to find no less than seven charms meant for warding and surveillance. There were more charms used for monitoring than there were for protection. He frowned and cast a few more charms of his own to allow them a small bubble of space where they would be free to talk. Dumbledore would be able to detect it, but he could not stop it.

When he was finished, Harry curled himself into a ball with his knees tucked under his chin. "He used me, Remus. But the worst part is that he still believes he is doing the right thing. Nothing has changed except that now I am aware of his manipulations."

"Harry as much as I agree with you that what Albus has done is wrong, the alternative is so much worse. The Order is the only other protection you have."

"I know that, But it doesn't make it easier to accept."

"What will you do?"

"Play the game, I guess, till one of us wins. There is very little I can do. I wish I could just run away from it all sometimes. There's nothing here for me. Not really..."

"Your friends-"

"Are amazingly fickle." Harry finished for Remus. "Can you honestly see Hermione standing with me over Dumbledore? She thinks the world of him. And Ron would follow her anywhere."

"I'm here," Remus told him quietly.

"I know," Harry sent a shy smile that did not last. "But for how long."

"Harry, I would never abandon you!" Remus said, hurt.

"Sometimes we're not given the choice. Sirius wasn't. Cedric wasn't. My parents...Remus, one day, regardless of how careful you are, you won't be coming back."

"Harry, I _have_ to go on these missions. It's the only thing I can do to help you."

"It would help me more if you could be here for me!" Harry didn't mean for that to come out quite as savagely as it did, but he couldn't find the heart to feel bad about it. He meant it exactly the way it sounded.

"Harry-"

"I know, I know. I'm being selfish. But Remus, if anything happens to you, I _will _be alone. Ron and Hermione are great friends, but they will never truly understand what 'alone' really means. Not like I know you can." Harry tightened himself into a smaller target and bit his lip bloody.

"You know, after..." Remus left his chair and joined Harry on the bed. He placed a fatherly hand on the small shoulder. "After they sent Sirius to Azkaban, I wanted nothing more that to adopt you myself. But it was decided that it was best to send you to your aunt."

"_Who_ decided, Remus?" Harry asked bitterly. "You mean Dumbledore, don't you?"

"And the rest of the Order. As a Werewolf-"

"That's bullshit!"

"Harry!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! They tell you it doesn't matter, until there is a situation when it _shouldn't _matter. I don't care that you are a werewolf. I never did. And neither did my parents. You are still the closest thing to family I have. They take advantage of you and your curse just like they do to me and mine," he gestured wildly at his own forehead. "Besides, I've seen you in your wolf form, Remus. You are no monster. A bit scary, perhaps, but no monster."

With tears in his eyes, Remus pulled Harry into a gentle hug. "You are my family too, Harry. You are more than pack. You are the cub I will never have. And I am more grateful than you could ever know, to hear that you think so highly of me."

"But you still have to go," Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Remus' neck. He felt the man nod against his shoulder. "Promise me that you will be careful."

"I swear it, cub."

Harry pulled back. "Cub?" he asked, amusement starting to trickle into his voice.

"All part of being a dark creature, Harry. The wolf in me sees you as family just as much as I do."

"Still," harry whined. "It makes me sound so...small and defenseless."

"In case you haven't noticed, cub," Remus grinned. "You _are_ small."

Harry pouted cutely at his friend and playfully smacked him in the arm. "But not defenseless."

"No," Remus chuckled. "Never that."

"So," Harry sobered up. "Do I have to go back to the Dursley's?"

"Not at all. You are to stay here with Tonks and Mundungus since you are already aware of them. They are here to help you," Remus scolded the now scowling teen. "I will come back, Harry. As soon as I can."

He nodded and sighed. "Be careful."

Remus let the spell he had cast dissipate and he gave the boy one more hug. He was thrilled that Harry was allowing him so close and concerned when he felt how thin his body was under those baggy clothes. "I will be back soon," he told the boy and strode to the door. "Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "Nothing that I can't get myself out of," he agreed. The smile fell when the door closed behind the werewolf's back. Once again, it seemed that Dumbledore was manipulating things. There were other Order members. There was no reason to choose Remus...unless he wanted Harry isolated.

Harry returned to his bed. He found the previous warmth had long ago disappeared and he curled into a ball once again. He couldn't find the energy to do more than pull the covers over his head before falling asleep.

* * *

She liked the wolf-man. He was kind and truthful to her charge. He was a loyal friend. All qualities that she held dear to her own heart. As he conversed with the boy, she sensed the sadness in him as well as the conflict. She still hadn't come up with an explanation as to why he was allowing his souls to attack one another. It was unhealthy.

As he left the building where the boy was staying, she howled a farewell to him, wishing him, a safe journey and an even faster return. She saw that wolf's head snap around in startle-ment, his eyes flashed golden once before he was whisked away by his own spell. Harry liked him. He was good for the blood heir. Her guardianship was temporary after all. And as of yet, he was not even aware of her presence.

That would change, of course. As the bond grew, so would the child's awareness of things around him. A pleasing side-effect of bonding with her, she thought proudly. As soon as she reached familiar status, he would be ready to learn about his own heritage. And the sooner he was free of the tangled webs of intrigue that he seemed to be caught up in here, the better.

She had set all the wards around him when the two had been talking in the store with the cold sweets. She had remained far enough away to not be seen, but close enough to hear and to work. The boy was well protected from harm. At least magical harm, but physical attacks he would have to ward off himself. And he was so small...she worried.

She had enjoyed the tales about Lily Evans, another of the blood, though her magic had not been strong enough to inform them as to her whereabouts. It wasn't until she had called their names, right before her death, that they had been able to track her. The baby she had left behind was the only remnant of her left. They all mourned her passing, though they did not know her personally. It was rare to find one of their own so young. Their people were old. They were immortal, though they could be killed or contained. It was a great crime to find one of their blood dead. It was a great loss. But they were able to rejoice in the knowledge that she had birthed a child before her passing.

But, they had no rights he him until he called for them. He had to be the one to open himself to them...it was the way it worked. They only had the opportunity to move closer now because his life was being threatened. Even so, they were forced to work from the shadows.

She found a dry place to sleep and curled up. She would wake when the boy did. When he was ready to move, she would be ready to move with him. If it took her life to keep him safe, she would gladly give it. Hopefully, the boy would stay out of trouble...but when had one of their kind ever been able to keep from trouble? She snorted and tucked her nose into her tail...the answer to that was, never.

* * *

Draco did not return to the manor that night. He found himself at Diagon Alley, browsing the stores and trying to keep his mind from dwelling on what his father had planned. He couldn't face his mother yet, and though he promised to stay away from the trial, he wanted to be close by. If this was as close as he could get, than so be it.

He wandered with no deliberate path, choosing at random the direction he would go. He had been here so many times that there were no surprises, nothing new to hold his interest. Shopping had lost its appeal long ago. There was nothing that he wanted that he didn't already have. And though he was spoiled, he wasn't one to buy something just for the sake of buying it. So after several hours of window shopping, he was still empty handed.

At one point in his wanderings, Draco had thought that he had seen Potter stroll by, but after he had managed to work his way through the crowd, the boy was gone. That had been the only thing to have the power to distract him from musing about his father's trial. Potter had always been one subject that Draco was always willing to immerse himself into.

The dark-haired boy had plagued Draco's thoughts more often than any other subject since the day they had met at Madame Malkin's. Briefly, he wondered if the other boy even remembered that. It still made him angry to think about how he had been brushed aside so easily. He had been the one to see him first. He had been the first to speak with him. He had been the one that should have been his best friend. He had been the one that should have had all sorts of grand adventures with Potter. It still made him seethe to feel that jealousy in his gut. Jealousy for a Weasley. It was no wonder that he was so nasty to the red head. Potter should have been his.

In truth, he was not as nasty as he made himself out to be when around the Golden Trio. His bitterness had faded some after their third year, but by then, it was habit to seek them out and taunt them. Besides, being the Golden Boy's rival was the closest he could get to the other. The more angry he made Potter, the more attention he got from him. It was a twisted sort of relationship, but Draco figured that it was better than nothing.

What probably annoyed him the most was even with things the way they were now, he still liked the boy. Potter was a tough person to dislike. He was so...alive. He was everything that Draco wanted to be, everything Draco wanted. And it pissed him off to know it. So, of course, the taunting became more violent. They began to exchange hexes, occasionally their fights came to physical blows, and even though Potter was smaller that he was, the boy was fast.

Draco located a higher class inn with a vacancy and requested a room. His father's trial was early in the morning. He was the first of the captured Death Eaters to go to the court. What ever Lucius Malfoy had planned, it was sure to be big. Draco just hoped that his family would survive it.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was surprised when the guard screamed out his name again, late that evening. "My, you are a popular one t'day!" the snaggle-toothed guard called out. "Tho' this one ain't as pretty!"

Two dark shadows emerged from the doorway and strode down the hall. One had billowing robes trailing behind it. There was only one person that Lucius knew that walked like that.

"Hello Severus," he greeted his old friend.

"Lucius," Snape returned with a nod of his head. "How are you?"

The blond aristocrat gave the dark shadow a mocking smirk. "I would think that would be rather obvious."

Severus Snape sent a deadly glare at the maniacally grinning guard and watched in satisfaction as he gulped and wandered away to harass some of the other prisoners. He turned his dark eyes back to the blond. "You know why I am here?"

"I assume you were sent."

"I was not."

"Then why are you here?" Lucius peered through the bars. "If not to poison us in case we mean to talk, what purpose do you serve?"

Severus Snape sighed. "In this case," he told the suspicious man, "my own. Despite some differences in interest, you have been my friend."

The blond snorted elegantly. "People like us do not have friends, Severus. Though if I were to have one, it would be you."

"Perhaps you are right." Snape examined the cell Lucius was standing in. "The guard told me the Draco was here today..."

"Indeed. I had some...family business to discuss with him before my trial tomorrow." Lucius responded. He managed to sound utterly bored with the whole process, but Snape wasn't fooled.

He studied the taller man with the same intense scrutiny as he was being subjected to. "Are you afraid that I will talk, Severus? That I will spill our Lord's secrets?"

"Hardly," the Potions Master sneered. "We both know that you would be the last to rebel against him."

"Yes, the Dark Mark is strong, and I have no wish to decrease my life span, though I fear it has been significantly shortened anyway. The blood oath keeps us from going against him. There is no way to fight him. "

"There is a way." Snape answered carefully, trying to feel the other man out. "The oath states that we had to do his will. I do that...and more."

Lucius searched the dark eyes of his old house mate. "I see..." A small smile tilted the corners of his mouth. "More indeed." He was rather surprised to find that the traitor in their ranks was none other that Snape. Surprised, but pleased. Severus was Draco's godfather. If anyone could help the boy now, it would be Severus...

Lucius bowed his head. "I made Draco swear an oath..."

Severus felt his nostrils flare in rage. The thought of his Godson caught up in all that horror was infuriating.

"He will not be permitted to serve as we have done...or he will lose his magic."

"Lucius," Severus breathed. "What have you done!"

"I have protected my only child from serving that maniac!" the blond spat back. "I would think that you would be glad to hear it."

Severus clenched his teeth. "You have signed his death warrant," he hissed. "The Dark Lord will not accept that the Malfoy family is out of his grasp. He will hunt down your son using what ever means he can."

"I know that," Lucius sighed. "But I have some faith in my heir. He will find a way to survive this."

"Every Death Eater in the ranks will be sent after him faster than you can say Crucio!" Severus protested.

Lucius smirked slightly. "Every Death Eater will be too busy trying to save their own skins. My son will have the time he needs to forge his own alliances." He gave the darker man a significant look.

"What are you going to do?" Severus demanded. "Lucius, this is madness!"

"No, this is justice. Something that none of us have yet to experience. I am not sorry for the lives I took. I am not sorry for the things that I have done. I am only sorry that they were ever necessary. But, I would do it again in a heartbeat, if it would keep my family safe. Goodbye, Severus. Watch over my son." Lucius turned his back on the Potion's Master, ignoring the strangled breathing behind him.

Snape knew that there was no more he could say. The damage had already been done. He stared at his friend quietly before whirling around. "Goodbye, Lucius. And good luck."

Lucius smiled in the dark after the door clanged shut again. "I won't be the one needing luck, Severus. No, my luck has indeed run out..."

* * *

Please Please Please review! I need to know that _someone_ out there is enjoying my story...or if not, tell me why! I would love to hear from you.

Hide-N-Seeker


	5. Enemy of my Enemy

I must apologize for being away for so long. I lost my PC. ** Sobs **and everything on it. I now own a MAC and have had to teach myself, by way of trial and error, to use a system that I am completely unfamiliar with. I have only just purchased the Word program and have many hours of frustration ahead of me. I apologize for any inconsistency in either my writing, or my updating. I have also lost my Aim account as well as all e-mail addresses including that of my beta and would appreciate if she could contact me again when she reads this!

And yes, I am currently ignoring the entirety of the sixth book. I had already mapped out this story to its very ending and trying to work in the events of HBP would be impossible without starting from the very beginning. So, this is very much AU after book five.

Thank you

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Response to Reviews…I always find it rather annoying to wade through a list twice as long as the story so I do not thank my reviewers individually. And since you know if you reviewed or not, you know if this **Thank you **pertains to you or not!

I do, however, respond to comments or valid questions posed in reviews. The one that had me chuckling the most was the issue of concern over the much abused "finding the perfect mate/getting out of writing about two separate people falling in love and bypassing the whole having a relationship issue" so I totally understand the hesitation you may have to read about such here! Despite how it may appear, there is no instantaneous love at first sight (or bite as the case may be here) for two reasons. Though those stories have their own charm, and I must admit to having read quite a few of them, I just can't see it happening here! Go back and read what the guardian will be searching for and then consider **_who_** it is searching for. I very much doubt that Draco is currently concerned with True Love and all its pitfalls. Rather, he'd be more inclined to look for power and strength…but that is just my opinion. The other reason is that I simply would prefer to see the relationship develop in a more realistic fashion.

CHAPTER 5

Draco stared blankly at the walls of his rented room. He ignored the increased noise of the outside world as morning came and people stirred. Dully, be cast **_Tempus_** and stared at the floating numbers till they faded away. It was near ten. His father's trial had started at nine. He had been up for hours. For a time, he had been considering going against his father's wishes. But in the end, he did not have the heart to deny that request. He had not wanted to go back to the Manor though he knew his mother waited there for him.

He had warned her the day before that he would remain in the Alley until news of the trial reached him. He also warned her that her husband was planning something. She had only demurred that Lucius was _always _planning something.

The noise outside of his open window escalated for no apparent reason. Draco forced himself to sit up and peek through the wisp of curtain to the street below. People were yelling and pointing, shaking their neighbor's shoulders and moving out of the streets as fast as they could. Draco tensed and stumbled away from the fragile glass when some random witch pointed a finger at him and began jumping up and down.

"What is going on?" he muttered to himself and ventured another look. People were scrambling for wands, ducking into stores and generally mucking about uselessly. Draco was confused. There didn't seem to be anything out there to be scared of.

Suddenly, someone was pounding on his door, causing his heart to leap in his chest.

He stared hard at the wood, debating if he should answer when the pounding grew more urgent and was accompanied by the pleading voice of the older woman who had checked him in. "Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy, you have to leave here!" she cried. "Hurry up, if you don't want to get caught!"

Draco jumped to attention. "Caught!" he hissed out. "What the fuck is going on?" He strode to the door and pulled it open, prepared to demand an explanation of the woman when she shoved him back into the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

"Mr. Malfoy," she pleaded with the blond boy between pants as she tried to catch her breath. "They know you're here!" she told him. "You have to get out of here!"

"Who?" Draco demanded and watched this stranger gather his few possession and press them into his arms. "What is happening?"

"Your father!" she cried and shoved his shoes at him. "Your father has just condemned seventy three families to death! The Auror's will be here for you in minutes if the crowd doesn't break in first!"

"Aurors" Draco exclaimed. "But I haven't done anything wrong!"

The old witch gave him a pitying look. "The sins of the father..." she patted his arm and held out an old container filled with ashes for the floo.

"Wait!" he told her and grabbed her arm when she would have turned away. "Tell me what happened. Please, tell me."

The woman's lower lip trembled uncertainly. "He named the others."

"He..." Draco blinked. "Oh, Merlin..."

It didn't take him very long to figure out what this actually meant for him. Lucius Malfoy confessed and then named the other families allied to the Dark Lord. Those families would be after _him_ now, as well as the Ministry. The Ministry would want answers to questions about his father and his own allegiances, the others would be after his blood. Voldemort would be after him. Shit.

"He then confirmed it through **Veritaserum." **The old woman continued. "There was a riot at the ministry as soon as he took the potion. It seems your father has made enemies of his only allies."

"But why?" Draco whispered to himself. "Why would he...after all this time..."

"For you, I would imagine. Child, you must leave now!" the woman gave him a gentle push toward the hearth. "Go on."

Draco blindly followed directions and stumbled into Malfoy Mannor in a daze, barely catching the "poor boy," the woman had said as the world had began to spin.

Narcissa Malfoy had arrived at the gates of Hogwarts only moments after the trial had started. She knew, long before, what would happen should this day ever come. Lucius had made her swear an oath to present herself to Dumbledore and his Order the moment things got underway.

With a heavy heart, Narcissa climbed the many stairs of the school and pushed her grief away until she was certain that she had done all she could to keep her one and only child safe.

She had made her concerns apparent to her husband many years before Voldemort had truly risen for the second time about who she thought would actually win this war. And though she had expected Lucius to be furious with her, he had surprised her by agreeing that there was little chance that the Dark Lord would ever win. But he had made that oath…

She stumbled slightly on the last step before the doors to the school and stared without seeing at the familiar grey stones and worn wood. She had walked into her relationship knowing who and what she was marrying. She had known all along what promises her husband had already made. She had known since their engagement that Lucius was not going to live to see his only heir graduate.

She could only imagine what Draco though of all of this. She was slightly disturbed by the appearance of that Parkinson girl and the brute, Goyle at her side as she was leaving the manor, but since they were contained in the front room with the floo unless escorted into the main building by one of the Malfoy's themselves, she was not too worried about their presence.

She was doing her best not to arouse suspicion in those loyal to the Dark Lord in what she was about to do. And thankfully, Draco was safe elsewhere and was smart enough to figure out that it would not be prudent to remove himself from the safety of his current location.

It was going to be so hard for her son in the next few months…years. For however long it took for this bloody war to end. Things were never going to be the same and there was no longer safety in numbers. There would be no allies for them among the Dark and the Light had no reason to trust them.

But if Lucius was right, Dumbledore would not throw the remaining Malfoys out without at least listening. Not if they at least had a use…

Draco regained his sight as he stepped from the floo and yelled out. "MOTHER!"

"Hello, Draco." someone, definitely not his mother spat behind him.

"Draco," a second voice growled.

Draco heard the familiar voice at this back and cringed. He slowly turned around, schooling his features into his well used mask of indifference. "How did you get in here?" he questioned icily. The wards around the Manor should have stopped them from entering, maiming or killing them without difficulty.

"Oh, that was easy. We simply told your dear mother that we wished to see you; to support you through this tough time. We _are _such good friends and all that," the first voice simpered.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the two figures lounging in the large stuffed chairs near the floo. "Where is she?" he growled.

"Your dear mother? Oh, she mentioned something about going shopping. Right Greg?"

The other boy nodded and rested his large hands in his lap with deceptive obedience. Draco watched him warily. If the old lady at the inn was right, then his father had just condemned both the Parkinson's and the Goyle's as Death Eaters. This was no friendly visit.

What concerned him more, though, was his mother's absence. If she really was out shopping, then she would have been caught up in that mess in the Alley. Those people would have torn her apart. He stepped back with one foot only to find a wand pointed at his head at his first movement.

"You didn't think that it would be that easy, did you?" Pansy hissed furiously between her teeth. "Did you think that there wouldn't be consequences?" The larger boy slowly withdrew his wand and pointed it with slow precision at Draco's heart.

One wand, Draco could have dodged the spell. Two, and he was at a disadvantage. He watched them with sharp eyes. The cold look on his face was enough to cause them to pause. "You would dare to draw your wand on me in my own house?" he asked them in a dangerous whisper.

Gregory started to drop his hand but changed his mind when Pansy started to laugh. "You would dare betray us?" she mimicked back at him. "Betray our Lord?"

"Not **_my _**Lord," Draco let a smirk slip onto his face though his eyes remained that same steely grey.

That was all it took.

"Crucio!" Pansy screamed. Apparently she had been practicing this summer. Her curse held more power now than Draco expected. Like his own family, the Parkinson's supplemented the normal school curriculum with the Dark Arts. There was no doubt that she knew what she was doing.

Draco took a chance that Gregory would be slower than his pug faced companion and dodged in front of the other wand. He dropped the shoes he still held in one hand and found the old woman's tin of floo powder still in the other. Thinking quickly, he tossed the whole container into the fire and leapt back in with a cutting curse right on his heals. He screamed out the name of the first store that he thought of and skidded out of the hearth on his stomach in Madame Malkin's robe shop.

Scrambling to his feet, Draco stared around him wide eyed, catching the shocked looks on the faces of both workers and customers alike.

"A Death Eater!" someone pointed at him and screamed.

"I'm not-" he began to protest when someone else shoved him from behind.

"Scum! Someone call the Aurors!"

"I haven't-" Draco stumbled and fell. He finally drew his own wand and pointed it at several of the more violent people surrounding him. "I am no Death Eater!" he spat and carefully regained his feet.

"Lair!" another woman shouted from the back. "I bet you're just like your father!"

Draco backed toward the door, knowing that it wouldn't be any safer out there, but it would be more open in case he had to run or fight. He felt the smooth door behind him and with one more quick glance around, he fled.

Harry was startled as he left Eyelops with a fresh bag of owl treats to find absolute chaos in the streets. He stared at the panicked wizards and witches with dumbfounded fascination. They were absolutely out of control. He followed the yelling and screaming mass of bodies into the streets and carefully drew his own wand in case it became necessary that he defend himself.

Tonks and Fletcher seemed to have been swallowed in the crowd and Harry had no interest in seeking them out. For all he cared, they could stay lost. It was several tense minutes before he found a face he recognized. He side stepped the more stationary members of the Alley and cornered the clerk from Flourish and Blots.

"Ma'am," he nodded to her when she turned to face him. "What's going on?"

Her eyes widened and flicked back and forth from his scar to his eyes. "H-Harry Potter!" she breathed. "Oh, my! It's Harry Potter!"

Harry wasn't sure why she was so surprised. He had seen her this very morning only hours ago when he had paid for his purchases. The scowl was too large to hide so Harry gave her the full brunt of it. "What's going on?" he demanded knowing that nothing short of that would made her respond in any articulate fashion.

"What's-OH! You mean you don't know!" she squealed in excitement. "Lucius Malfoy confessed to being a Death Eater!"

The scowl grew. Harry already knew that Malfoy was a Death Eater. But that did not account for the panic in the streets. He had been telling the wizarding world at large that Voldemort was back and that his Death Eaters were running about for several years now. He had even named some of the figures he had recognized only to be ignored. Fudge was good at only one thing; covering his own ass. He raised one questioning brow and silently bade her to continue.

"He named his accomplices too," she nodded knowingly. "The Ministry has already issued warrants for seventy three others. To think, some of those named were right there in the trial room! They tried to run of course, but the Auror's got a few of them."

Harry just stared at the girl as she continued. He opened his mouth to ask a question but was cut off by a scream. He whirled around and found a mass of people pressing in on one figure barely visible where it was sprawled on the ground. Being Harry, he did the only thing he could. He through himself into the middle of it with out regard to his own well-being.

Wide wine red eyes shifted quickly from one threat to another while the Humans around her charge bolted in every other direction. In all her travels, she had never come across a creature that could panic itself over nothing the way mortal humans could.

Of course, Human were one of the only beings in existence who were their own greatest threat. She ruffed her fur up around her neck in disgust and followed obediently behind her bonded. Keeping to the shadows, she noticed the waves of pure magic shifting in the dusty streets. This could not be a good omen.

Draco found himself overwhelmed quickly once the people became aware of his presence. Surrounded and separated from his wand by a line of angry wizards and witches, Draco readied himself for the inevitable. Carefully, and with as much dignity as he could gather, Draco sneered at the mob and wiped at the thin stream of blood running down his face.

A short time ago, Draco had ceased attempting to reason with them. No one was listening, not that he blamed them. He shifted on his hands, lifting his shoulders from the dirty cobbles and half sitting up. If he was going to die here, it wasn't going to be with him lying on his back.

Bitterly, he noted that several of his tormentors were Hogwarts students that he had harassed at some point in the past six years. One teary eyed witch spat at him and accused him of the murder of her baby brother. Draco merely stared back, unable to do anything in the position he was in. It was hard to accept, but Draco was quick to realize that there would be no help coming. Whatever his own views, neither side would be willing now to save him.

One vicious looking man raised his wand and took two steps into the empty space surrounding the blond. He stalked forward, the raised yells from the others encouraging him to do things that most of them would never have considered before. Just before the words of a rather illegal pain curse passed his lips, a small figure shoved him to the side. The man stumbled and turned to glare at the impudent child and faltered.

Standing between the sprawled Malfoy and the mob was one of the most recognizable figures in the wizarding world. The whole congregation fell into silence, watching without comprehension as Harry Potter, the very Boy-Who-Lived himself, took a defensive stance in front of his own school nemesis.

Draco knew he was gaping. Oh, he was fully aware that his mouth was hanging open in shock and that he was not the only one. A careful survey of the previously blood thirsty crowd reveled that more than half of them were in the same state. Draco decided that he was far safer where he was and watched carefully for his first chance of escape. At the moment, running was not an option. Neither was fighting, since it was one against...fifty? Draco chose not to count; he really wasn't interested in the numbers anyway, just his survival.

Harry never took his eyes off the crowd. Instead, he focused his green eyes on anyone that so much as twitched until everyone had settled into an uncomfortable silence. "What," he finally growled out when he figured that everyone was listening, "is going on here?"

The man that Harry had stopped from attacking Malfoy at the last minute transformed from the leader of an enraged mob to a jovial average wizard intent on shaking the hand of the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry declined the outstretched hand with a piercing glare and raised his own wand when the man would have stepped closer.

"Uh," the man stuttered in confusion, "we, that is," he gestured at Malfoy still sitting in the dust, "we were just cleaning up around here. Didn't you hear the news? Malfoy has confessed to being a Death Eater!"

Harry quirked an eyebrow, not bothering to even glance in Draco's direction. "Yes, _Lucius_ Malfoy." Harry agreed readily.

Several people murmured at that and looked ashamed. Others were staring at the boy hero incredulously.

"You can't mean to defend him!" a fellow student, third year Ravenclaw if Harry remembered correctly, yelled from the back. "His whole family is nothing but a long line of dark-"

"You can't mean to judge him on his father's deeds." Harry spat back, very familiar with the whole idea. Too often now had he been compared to his own father, and at times found lacking. "Unless you are taking lessons from Voldemort," the crowd cringed and shuddered, "you have no right to be attacking someone else without just cause."

"He's-"

"Not a Death Eater!" Harry finished savagely. "Unless that has changed in the past few weeks?" Harry tossed the question over his shoulder at the blond with out looking back.

"Hardly," Draco sneered. "I have never had any desire to be branded by that madman."

"There, you see?" Harry announced to the crowd.

"How can you just believe him!" Some random witch cried out. "He's-"

"A spoiled selfish git with little regard for anyone other than himself, I know," Harry finished. "That doesn't make him guilty of what you are accusing him of."

Draco bit back a protest and an insult that was just begging to be let loose on the other boy, but he doubted that it would endear him to the crowd or his lone defender and wisely remained silent.

"His father-"

"Is currently still in Ministry custody and paying for his crimes, I would hope," A dark voice cut off the hysterical shout and Professors Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall stalked through the parting crowd to stand facing Harry.

Snape sneered at the glaring teen and took in the scene without further comment. McGonagall's no-nonsense stare made the majority of the crowd wilt as if they were back in school being reprimanded for some offence.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall addressed the younger Malfoy. "If you are finished here? Your mother is rather worried."

"You found her?" Draco sighed in relief.

"She is with Headmaster Dumbledore at this very moment." She assured him. "Severus, I see that you have this situation in hand. I have a few errands to complete. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," she nodded once and shot the Golden Boy a significant look that clearly said "we will talk later" and apparated away.

Severus immediately went on damage control and sought to minimize the danger, both current and in the future, to his Godson. "It seems that some of your father's previous...friends...are not so happy to hear that the remaining Malfoy's are less inclined to the Darker arts." Snape ignored the whispers around them and set about insinuating that Draco and his mother were pro-light. He hated to admit it, but Potter's defense would go a long way to help in that regard, though the action itself was nothing short of foolish.

As long as Draco did nothing to contradict them, there would be enough evidence that Draco was not allied to the Dark Lord to save him from this sort of situation again. The support of Dumbledore and Potter would prove invaluable in vouching for the younger Malfoy's allegiances.

As long as Potter did not prove to be as fickle as his mut of a godfather, or as rash as his own father was, Draco would be grudgingly forgiven by the majority of the wizarding community and saved from following in his fathers footsteps.

Harry continued to remain alert and stood braced against the slowly disintegrating crowd. His vibrant eyes scanned back and forth slowly, alert to any threat. A flash of silver caught his attention, but when he tried to focus on it, it vanished. Vaguely he heard the Potions Master berate the blond for his continued "lazing about" followed by a question about the blonde's lack of shoes. The shuffling behind him announced the other boy's climb to his feet.

One chastised witch meekly held out Draco's wand were it had been rescued from the street and yelped in surprise when it was snatched rather rudely from her fingers. Flushing, she ran off without comment.

"Oi! Harry!" A shrill voice yelled out.

Harry sighed and stalked off, hands once again limp at his sides and his head down. "Back to prison," he muttered just loudly enough for the two Slytherin's to hear him. Draco exchanged a look with his own Godfather and opened his mouth to say something to the slouching teen, but didn't know what to say.

Harry was suddenly surrounded by no less than seven Auror's, lead by Tonks and Kingsley. The group swallowed his slight form to the point that Draco wasn't sure he was even still there or if he had been port-keyed off immediately. He risked a glance at his Godfather and saw the barest hint of confusion in those dark eyes as they followed the Boy-Who-Lived as he was escorted from the Alley.

"Sev?" Draco asked with the lack of formality only years of familiarity can provide. "Why did he...?" He gestured at the retreating teen vaguely.

"Because he's and idiot!" Snape scowled.

The blond felt a sudden urge to argue with his mentor but snapped his mouth shut when he realized who he would be defending. "If that is true," he answered, choosing his words more carefully, "then I am glad of it."

"Yes," Snape agreed. "It does rather work in your favor..._this _time."

Draco just stood there, trying to come to terms with that fact that Harry Potter had just defended him, saved his life, helped ensure his future safety, and had not even looked at him once in the process.

It was with great relief that the white dog followed her charge from the crowded streets. She had been prepared to viciously murder the first mortal to lay a hand on Harry but was glad that it had not been necessary in the end. No one noticed her stalking the shadows, just as no one noticed the flares of pure magic rippling off of Harry. If she had not witnessed some of their achievements firsthand, she would have lost all faith in this weaker race long ago. They never noticed anything important, it seems. The boy was practically glowing, by the Lady! You would think that would give them a clue.

Never tangle with someone who's power exceeds your own by more than half. It generally turns out badly. It's a basic rule of survival.

She took little notice of the mortal he was defending. Other humans are not her business. The dark stranger that came later, though...now he she will watch. There was something there that felt threatening. Her bonded seemed to have little liking for the tall male, or even the younger pale male he had been protecting. It was odd that he would place himself in a position like that for someone he felt such bitterness toward, but she never claimed to understand humans. They have always been some of the most irrational of races. And at the moment, her Harry was still very much human.

But that would change...all he had to do was call out to them and he would forever leave his mortality behind him.

Rather than follow the group of people ushering Harry from the street, she remained behind to figure out what had gotten these silly creatures so worked up to begin with. The one most likely to answer her questions was one involved, so she discreetly slunk through the shadows and watched the pale figure her bonded had been defending. The blond was sickeningly easy to spot. His hair was like a beacon in the sun light. She inched closer until she could distinguish his scent from that of all the other bodies around and was surprised to find that he smelled pleasant enough for one of his kind.

She turned her pointed ears in his direction to catch the softly spoken words that he was exchanging with the taller man. "My mother went to Dumbledore?"

"Now is not the time," Snape hissed.

"My father?" Draco asked.

Snape sighed and reached out one hand to lay on the blond's shoulders. "I'm sorry Draco. He knew that as soon as he agreed to say anything that he would be silenced. He was prepared for this for a long time."

The blond shrugged the hand away and turned away to stare hard at the ground. "Who did it?" He demanded.

Snape glared half-heartedly at his godson and shook his head. "I was not there, Draco. I do not know…but I will find out. Your mother is waiting."

Draco allowed himself to be ushered away, feeling rather numb and apathetic after the adrenalin rush he had just experienced. He glanced once more down the mostly empty street where the Golden Boy had disappeared and whispered a barely audible "thanks, Potter," into the wind.

_I hope he doesn't expect that to be sufficient gratitude for endangering MY bonded's life…_With her tongue lolling out in a canine grin, she wagged her tail gently side to side and returned to Harry's side.

Harry jerked his arm away from the overzealous Auror at his elbow and sent a dark look at the young recruit who couldn't have been more than three years older than Harry. They were unsuccessfully trying to frog march him in the general direction of the ministry building, but Harry was having none of that. Harry came to a dead stop and snarled, "This is bloody ridiculous!"

"Mr. Potter," a stern older Auror frowned at him, "we have orders to escort you to the Ministry at the first sign of danger."

Harry felt the youth grasping at his arm again and he whirled around. "Touch me again and you'll lose that hand."

"Mr. Potter!" The elder Auror exclaimed. "I must insist-"

Harry cut him off. "The first sign of danger' as you so aptly put it, has come and gone before you even knew where to look. I will be returning to my rooms. I will be doing so under my own power, and without the Ministry's help," he sneered the last word and brushed past a gaping Tonks to make his way to the Leaky Cauldron.

With a significant look at Shacklebolt, she hurried after the boy. The other Auror's had trouble deciding what to do with themselves and settled for a round of throat clearing and vague invitations for someone else to make a decision. With a sound of disgust, Shacklebolt faded into the crowd and left the group there to look incompetent on their own.

Well, I had to cut it off because this chapter was getting away from me. That and I don't know if this is going the way I want it to. I may come back and scrap this and begin again. glares at page

Hope that you all review anyway…I could REALLY REALLY use the support right now…

Hide-n-seeker


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